Red and Black
by thesunshinekid
Summary: Fifty years after Bella’s change, something scary and unknown causes the fall of the Volturi. Whether they like it or not, the Cullens find themselves sucked into something more dangerous than anything they’ve encountered before. Written pre-BD.
1. Presidential Problems

**Author's Note: Hello again! Summer is here, and so is a new – multi-chapter! – story. This is something new for me; I'm writing in third person, and it's different subject matter that what I've done before. Since this is new territory for me, any reviews telling me how I'm doing would be much-much-much appreciated. Thank you in advance to Leiahlaloa for all her awesome beta work; she's a great ear. So, without much further ado, I give you "Red and Black."**

**I do not own Twilight, nor do I own any of its respective characters.**

"_There's a freight train coming to force your head in check…"_

– "_Shotgun Serenade" by The Juliana Theory_

Prologue:

Presidential Problems

President Moleweller rested his forehead on his palm, his elbow digging into the bumpy writing pad on his desk, and stared at his fading blue "I heart Dad" mug filled with novelty pens. _How had it gotten this bad?_

When you run for President, you think, "Sure, this is something I could do…" Keep to the tenets of your party (unless they all go crazy), keep your answers vague, and pray that the country doesn't go into economic recession, wherein everyone would blame you. Lower taxes (and then raise them again when you realize it was a bad idea in the first place), give feel-good speeches, smile a lot, and kiss ugly babies. You would be what the rest of the world saw when they saw the good ol' U.S. of A., so you'd better look snazzy doing it.

Ha! He should have known; nothing in life is ever that simple. Who knew the citizenry of the U.S. wasn't exclusive to regular old homosapiens? You thought you had just the same amount of power as every other Joe Schmoe out there, "All men are created equal" and all that. No, never mind, it turns out that the world is really run by something deeper, the type of creatures that laugh at humanity's futile attempts to hold all the power, the type of creatures that know that, for all the mess humanity makes of the world - global warming and nuclear warfare and poverty and antibiotic-resistant epidemics - it could get worse. Who knew of man-eating vampires and vampire-destroying werewolves and those pesky witches that never agreed with anybody, not even each other…?

Because, it turned out, there were subterranean powers; the Volturi and the Werewolves Council and the Eastern Warlocks. And, in reality, humanity didn't rule the world; _they_ did.

Free world, western civilization, democracy, republic… Crap. These powers were older than measured time. These minds were smarter than Plato or Freud or Darwin, deadlier than Alexander the Great and Charlemagne, trickier than Henry the Eighth and Saddam Hussein. The vampires could kill you with a flick of their wrists, and they'd enjoy eating you. The werewolves had tempers, and were prone to territorial disputes. The witches and warlocks could get what they want through _magic_ – of course, if you're going to believe in vampires and werewolves you're going to believe in magic. And in one swift movement, two hours after President Moleweller took his oath, the thick squishy White House carpet was swept out from under his feet. Ex-President Joneswimmer, retired from the worries of supernatural powers and petty human problems, had called from a relaxing spot in Colorado that very night. As Moleweller had tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the cumbersome leather desk chair, Joneswimmer handed over some very disturbing knowledge.

We have no power, not really; we have no power at all.

President Moleweller used his free hand to slap his forehead, and proceeded to cover his eyes with his hands. How could he have been so blind? Just pay no heed to it, ex-President Joneswimmer had said, call those Italian vampires if there's a bit of a mess, and they'll clean it right up, quick and simple. Nothing for you to worry about – these creatures take care of themselves. And the killing thing? Circle of life, my friend. Just do your job, running this country, and they'll do theirs – whatever that was.

Well, now he needed those Italian guys. He'd called them before – the St. Louis incident was nothing he would forget about quickly – it was as if the problem had never existed, just as ex-President Joneswimmer had said.

Except one hour ago, when President Moleweller had dialed that foreboding number, no one had answered the call. This was a problem. It meant something – though President Moleweller had no idea what. All he knew was that this was the emergency line – somebody would always answer.

So Moleweller had done the sensible thing and called up Prime Minister Strong, who'd been having problems of his own (a little werewolve-vampire fighting here, some issues with loyalists to the now-defunct Ministry of Magic there). Everyone – well, everyone that _knew_ – knew that the Volturi were the peacekeepers of the three supernatural strongholds.

Only to find that _something_ was wrong with those Italian vampires. Something had happened.

Moleweller looked at his desk, at the thick file that sat open, pages spilling in every direction – 400 years of records. A top-secret file marked by the CIA "In Case of Supernatural Emergency." He remembered laughing it off as a joke when he saw it in the bottom desk drawer, but some odd sense of a storm brewing hadn't let him move it.

He remembered his last conversation with the old Italian man. Aro had told him, "Thanks for calling. We're right on it."

Moleweller had thanked him, and was just about to hang up when Aro's hushed voice had come through the crackly line.

"If there's ever any trouble, if you can't reach us for any reason, there's a file in the bottom drawer of your desk with everything you need."

Aro had hung up then, and Moleweller hadn't thought much of the comment; Joneswimmer said that the Volturi _always_ answered the political-emergency line.

Moleweller wished he'd listened to Aro now, wished he'd paid more attention to the urgency in the ancient vampire's voice. Even then, the Volturi had known that things might get bad, might come to this.

He turned to his phone. He could do this. This was no scarier than calling to Italy for something that, embarrasingly enough, your own expensively equipped military forces couldn't stop.

He looked to the file again. Hundreds of years worth of information; of forgeries and tracking down transactions and at least ten different offshore bank accounts filled to the brim with more money than Moleweller would know what to do with. Properties and land and shares in some of the most profitable companies in the world. Four hundred years worth of information on this man – creature- vampire - thing.

And a phone number scrawled on a yellow post-it note stuck to the top page. It seemed he moved around a lot.

Was this the type of guy you could just call?

He could do this. He could.

He _had_ to.

"1" for out of area calls. Good so far. Then the three-digit area code. His fingers were unsteady. Seven more numbers; simple really. His hand trembled with the effort of keeping the phone raised to his ear.

One ring.

Two rings.

"Hello?" The voice was smooth, even, calm – nothing like the gravelly ancient murmur he'd expected. Moleweller's own voice was anything but smooth, even, and calm.

"Hi – umm… This is the President of the United States."

"Hello sir," if the answerer was wary, Moleweller couldn't hear it, "how may I help you?"

"I'm looking for a – for, umm… Carlisle Cullen."


	2. Castles in the Sand

"_Pride goes before destruction,_

_And a haughty spirit before a fall."_

_Proverbs 16:18_

Chapter One:

Castles in the Sand

Aro couldn't ignore it anymore. Not anymore; not when the disaster was on his proverbial doorstep.

Aro had gotten good at ignoring over the years. With the Volturi, life had always been simple; drink, be merry, and kill anyone who threatens to get in the way of that. He didn't know when this policy had changed, but it was obviously the reason for this mess now. Maybe it changed the day he started to let his curiosity cloud his better judgment. The day he didn't kill Edward Cullen – the day he didn't kill Bella Swan. Of course, they hadn't just let that one slide, and things worked out fine. But this… This! _Why_ hadn't they sent someone to stop this _years_ ago?

He knew why; they didn't think this posed a threat. Obviously (he sneered; this was beyond obvious now), he had underestimated this group's power. This wasn't the Cullens against a group of newborns; admittedly, even he was surprised at how that turned out – though there were rumors of outside help – of _werewolves _– and once more, in the case of his dear friend Carlisle Cullen, he let it slide. Funny, the Cullens came up a lot in his thoughts right now.

Aro looked at the hold all at his feet; a brown leather bag, a gift from his doctor friend just before he left for America – the doctor friend he was off to visit.

To visit – Ha!; to stay, to hide. Aro picked up the bag; he wasn't used to carrying things around, and he wasn't used to airplanes, but he had to get out of here. Demetri's footsteps pounded down the hall. It wouldn't be long before Volterra was nothing; overrun by voracious newborn vampires.

The hold all held only Aro's most precious of possessions: a ring given him by his fair wife, who had disappeared days ago; an original volume of _The Rise and The Fall of the Roman Empire_; a change of clothes befitting current fashions for the middle-aged; a gold watch he had fancied and taken from a lovely red-faced man he'd eaten for lunch about a year ago; and a stack of papers, filled with neat, tiny script, the product of years of work – Aro's studies on the human mind, and what he'd seen.

Demetri pulled Aro from his thoughts, and into the catacombs beneath the castle. _Castles in the sand_, Aro thought as they emerged on the cliff face, making their way down a narrow path between the rocks. _The wise man built his house upon the rock, _as had the Volturi – or so they thought. It was all falling down anyway now. They had to take a circuitous route to the airport in Florence; angry rogue vampires wouldn't take kindly to those they felt were threatening their advance upon their prey.

Marcus was dead. In all of Aro's years, he had never once seen a vampire waste away by grief – but if he would believe it of anyone, it would be Marcus. Marcus had lost his mate – so many years ago now – but he had never recovered from the tragedy. Now, as Aro wondered and worried for his Louisa, he understood a bit of what his brother had suffered. But perhaps Marcus had not succumbed to his grief at all; perhaps he had fallen to his fear. Marcus had never been prone to intense emotion, and the last few months may very well have been what did him in.

Caius was gone, but not disappeared. No, Aro knew where his more easily disgruntled brother had gone; he'd taken the easy way out. He wasn't just in a safe zone; he was the one to compromise the borders of Volterra itself. Caius' sin was unforgiveable in Aro's eyes; he had consorted with the enemy.

The Volturi didn't have enemies. They had people to eat, none of whom they liked very much, and vampires who got in their way, none of whom they liked very much, and so it all ended up in death. Murder was messy, but necessary. If vampires were to continue to exist, order must be kept, and with all Aro had seen of the world, he knew that the only way to truly scare someone into submission was through the ultimate punishment. Trade a few lives for many more to be happy – where was the harm in that?

The surge of rebels had come so fast, and seemingly out of nowhere, as if they seeped from the woodwork of the ancient cities of the world. Aro didn't know who was leading them, didn't know who had gathered them together, only knew that they were strong fighters – men and women chosen for their brutality, their power and strength. Even the Volturi guard had to retreat, to recollect themselves before returning to the fray – and by then it was even messier. The rebel vampires had disbanded into groups – the in-fighting getting the best of them - and dispersed into cities across the globe. It was a mess.

Aro closed the car door behind him, but ignored his seatbelt. He wasn't fond of these newfangled human contraptions. The speed was nice, certainly, but it felt wrong for all the power to be in the machine instead of in the hands and muscles and mind. Demetri liked driving, liked getting places quickly, liked travelling on assignment to foreign locales and then being as ruthless as he had always been. Aro was thankful that Demetri was still on his side, had stayed to help his master, while everyone else had fled in the chaos.

The scenery whizzed by the window, and Aro refused to think anymore. Not until they were on the plane – piloted by a man they could trust (and if it turned out they couldn't, Demetri was fairly familiar with the workings of airplanes) – and on their way to a safe place. He knew that not even his own thoughts were safe nowadays.

Goodbye Italy, a land Aro had not left in millennia. He had been born on this lush soil, he had been raised speaking this language, and reveling in the rich history of this people. Philosophers and dramatists and mythology, architecture and science and art. Aro had befriended Julius Caesar, had listened to the Apostle Paul preach, had commissioned the work of Da Vinci, had seen Andrea Bocelli perform live. There had not been a single pope ruling in the Vatican City that Aro had not personally greeted and shaken hands with. Aro had helped build the power of the Volturi over the ages, had created a dynasty, legends. The Volturi were ruthless rulers and ruthless businessmen and ruthless all over. They had been princes – nay, kings! – of the underworld. And now he was leaving it all for _America._

Aro boarded the plane, and watched as the jet rocketed from the runway, slicing its way through the air with a great roar of the engines. Modern human contraptions. Not even vampires were meant to fly.

Demetri informed him that it would be a five hour flight to London, where they would board an old fashioned 707 – whatever that meant – for Los Angeles. It would land during the night time, he was informed, and they would rent a car. Aro was less concerned about the daylight and more concerned about eleven hours sharing airspace with food. But he was not a greedy man; he would manage this.

There was nothing for him in America – the land where they rejected the English but kept their language, the land where people lived and died with the stock market, where couture had been reduced to Wal-Mart prices. What history did this America have? What of its politics - of its philosophies! - could interest a vampire so cultured and refined over so many years? He could not be mashed in with the general populace. All men created equal, one nation under God. Please; vampires were not created equal; the Volturi were not even created equal. Aro did not have a superiority complex, it was simply the truth.

There was only one thing in America that interested Aro, and that was asylum. In the same way that the Volturi did not have enemies, they did not have friends. Vampires were a self-seeking bunch; they lusted for blood, they lusted for their mate, and they lived out their existence in this way. In Volterra, Aro had found a civilized lifestyle, that was sure, but at the base of it all was the wily and debauch ways of the vampire. Aro did not deny that he loved it.

There was one vampire in the world more interested in love than lust, and that was the young Englishman who came to them so many years ago. The good doctor was an enigma, an anomaly, and his large family of animal-eating vampires were too. Never had vampire relationships been stronger than those between the Cullen family. Unlike the symbiotic relationship of power that Aro had held with his "brothers," Carlisle was potentially the only friend he'd made in the last thousand years. Aro chuckled; he knew that his personality grated upon those around him. Carlisle was a very patient friend. His boundless compassion dictated it so.

Aro knew that when he explained the situation, his friend would take him in. He _had _to. Though, now that the Volturi were no more, perhaps Aro could not trust Carlisle to be so loyal. No; he'd heard a great many years of thoughts through this man's hand. Vampires were unchanging, and Carlisle would always be compassionate.

The kindly physician might not be sympathetic to the situation, however. Aro had plenty of warning before his downfall, from an unknown and well-hidden source; _Maybe you're not as powerful as you think you are. You didn't think you could rule forever, did you?_ That's exactly what he had thought – or, in his case, avoided thinking about. Demetri could have tracked it, taken Jane along, delivered a threat or taken care of the situation. But Aro hadn't found it necessary. Everyone thought at some point, even if only for a fleeting moment, that it would be wonderful to overthrow the Volturi – who didn't want the life these prestigious vampires led?

And so the brothers had dismissed the threat; it wasn't the first and, at the time, did not appear to the be the last. But now Marcus was dead and Caius was conspiring with what could very well be the devil, and Aro had turned tail and run to America.

The Volturi may have been powerful leaders, but underneath it all, they were scared of losing everything. All wealth was temporary. Men as ancient as they could not ignore the fact. They were powerful and cultured and decisive, but they were not brave.

Carlisle could protect him. His boys were brave. And what was one vampire to a group of rogue newborns, when there were so many luscious human prey around? Aro would be safe soon.

It was unfortunate that lovely Isabella had proved ultimately talentless – her mind simply unreadable. But little Alice could see the future, and her mate could calm or excite a crowd. There was the brute – and his distracting goddess of a wife. And Edward, a young man Aro felt a kinship with, due to their shared mental talents. Esme was a charming hostess, he had been told. If he had to endure America, than he could do worse than to spend it with the Cullens. There might be a minor issue with eating habits – but now was not the time to question his decisions. If it came down to death or animal blood, then he would think on it more.

He was reminded, briefly, that the coven did not cohabitate any longer. His own edict, for safety's sake, of course. He trusted Carlisle, but Edward was prone to dramatics, and he didn't know much of the others. Safer to keep them from becoming too strong. Not like it mattered now. Once he found Carlisle, they could draw the group back together again. Aro's own personal little guard.

He still wasn't enthused about America, but he was warming up to this idea. They stepped off the plane in London in the rainy afternoon, and made their way by taxi to Heathrow. Aro shuddered. All those humans. His traveling companion picked up on it.

"We're traveling first class. It's off season, and we bought all the seats in the cabin. You'll be fine."

Thank goodness for millions in multiple accounts in untraceable (and untaxable) banks in Switzerland. Maybe if he made it out safely, he would settle by the lake in Geneva. He'd heard it was beautiful there at this time of year.

**Reviews are like In-N-Out Burgers. Reviews are like chocolate cake. Reviews are like a Jane Austen novel. Reviews are like Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli singing "Time to Say Goodbye."**

**Basically, reviews are amazing.**


	3. Risk

**Author's Note: For those of you who don't know (shame on you!) the game of Risk is basically a board game involving little soldiers, wherein the focus is strategy and the goal is to take over the world.**

"_I've heard of an ox, a professor from Quox_

_No longer permitted to teach; who has lost all powers of speech_

_And an owl in Munchkin Rock, a vicar with a thriving flock_

_Forbidden to preach; now he only can screech_

_Only rumors – but still –_

_Enough to give pause to anyone with paws_

_Something bad is happening in Oz…"_

_-"Something Bad", Wicked_

Chapter Two:

Risk

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you're going to win a game of Risk, you've got to begin in Australia. Jasper Whitlock, ever the military strategist, had known this, moving up through China and taking over Asia, and then spreading out in both directions to North America and Europe. Now, it didn't take his wife's power of foresight to see that he would win. Bella and Alice had fallen out of the game an hour ago, both armies victims of an untimely massacre coming from Northern Africa. Edward held out longer, but his troops were falling faster with each roll of the die.

There were only so many games that this content little group of vampires could play together, games safe from Alice's visions and Edward's mind intrusions. In Risk, it didn't matter what they saw or heard – they were powerless until their own turn was called and the damage already done. Twister was also safe, except for the messy tendency associated with a tangled mess of rock-hard vampire limbs flailing around according to the whims of an oft-broken spinner. Thus, Risk was safer.

It was a pretty domestic scene; two happily married couples sharing a games night, with jazz music playing in the background and laughter filling up the rest of the space. This was Bella and Edward's small house outside a similarly small town in Michigan. The building represented their conflicting styles; Edward's flair for the dramatic and Bella's taste for the simple. The building was not big , but it was airy and open-plan, with lots of windows to let in the light. Edward got his striking black piano by the front windows, and Bella got her modest bookcase filled with her favorites. The kitchen was tiny – and unused – and the bedroom, bathroom, and laundry room easily filled up the second-floor space. But, what their home lacked in square-footage, it more than made up for in acres of woodlands surrounding it.

Alice and Jasper were a somewhat nomadic couple, flitting between visiting various family members and travelling to "examine another cultures" (Jasper's words) or "chance upon inspiration" (Alice's words). Jasper, the consummate scholar, had taken his love of history and military and philosophy to other regions of the world, reveling in the varied and yet all-too-familiar past of foreign locales. Alice had been devastated when shopping malls had become more about bargains and business and less about couture and style, and now privately designed her own pieces for her close friends and family. The purpose of this visit was to determine what Edward needed for his fall wardrobe. As usual, Bella had resisted Alice's not-so-gentle prodding, and insisted that a new wardrobe once a year was plenty enough for her (after all, this would provide more of a challenge for Alice – the clothes she made for Bella would have to last for every season!).

When Carlisle had acquiesced to the Volturi's demands – that the too-large Cullen family separate – it seemed there was no longer any need for pretense. They were no longer posing as a happy family; and so the separate couples spread themselves out across the continent. Each took on their former names, pursued their own interests instead of languishing in high school another year, and generally lived very mundane, but contented, lives.

There had been resistance, of course, to Carlisle's decision – but really, they all knew it was futile. The Volturi wouldn't hesitate to have them destroyed if they didn't comply. And so, with both Edward and Rosalie protesting vehemently the whole way, the family split. They all kept in close communication, of course, but without the unification of being under one roof, of Carlisle making the decisions for everybody, the relationships had faded some. No more epic wrestling matches orchestrated by Emmett, no more philosophic discussions between Carlisle and Jasper, no more gardening with Esme or learning the workings of a car with Rosalie. On the occasions that they saw each other, things were nice – lots of catching up and chatting – until everything was out of the way and the awkward silence set in. This family no longer knew how to operate as a single unit, and those easy relationships required more work than ever before. They were all willing to put in that extra work, but at the end of the day they were glad to have quiet time to themselves.

Bella loved watching her husband's intense gaze at the world-map game board, as if it might give him answers, some hint to winning the game. It wouldn't, of course, but it was cute to see him so focused. Jasper had a ridiculously happy grin on his face. Any battle won – whether physical or mental – was cause for celebration. Bella sat on the floor, with Alice behind her on the big fluffy red couch neatly twisting her friends' long brown hair into French braids.

"Esme said you haven't visited in a while," Alice began. Bella heard it in her voice – this was the lead-in to a more serious conversation. Despite the fun of the game-night atmosphere, something had Alice on edge all night. She was good at hiding it, but Bella knew her better than that. Alice had lost her bounce.

"We had to wait for the end of the school year – and then you arrived." Bella explained. She taught a rowdy class of fourth graders – old enough to hold a conversation with, but nowhere near mature enough to flirt with her. An arrangement Edward particularly liked.

"Well, maybe next weekend?" Alice suggested. "Carlisle has time off, and it would be so nice to hunt as a group again."

"It would," Bella nodded, remembering the early days of her vampire life. The thrill of the hunt, the camaraderie of brothers and sisters – some of her most cherished memories were of forests far away from civilization, growlings and snappings and laughings. But Alice didn't want to hunt for the sake of hunting. It had been like she was forcing happiness – like she was trying her hardest to store up good memories in preparation for the earthquake/hurricane/cyclone/tsunami/_disaster _that she saw coming. Alice's forced enthusiasm for the game night had only proven this theory. Bella turned the conversation back to safe ground. "And whose car would we be taking?"

Alice now saw the flaw in her plans. "I guess we'd be taking yours." She pouted.

"Yes, we would." Bella moved to join Alice on the couch. Her functional Honda was the only car that would comfortably fit four passengers.

"It'll be great!" Alice tried to brighten up, but she didn't fool her best friend.

"You haven't seen it?"

"I don't see everything." Alice grumped. "There's so much mess in the world – I can't tell up from down anymore."

Bella shuddered. "Do you see any improvement?"

Alice shook her head, and motioned for the porch. She wanted to talk without the intrusion of their overprotective men.

"Jasper wants to go back to the South, see if anything is stirring there. If something's going to happen in this part of the world, it'll start there."

Bella nodded in understanding. "You want to keep out of it."

"Yes." Her tiny face scrunched up for a moment; she looked distressed. "I keep seeing _Aro_, of all people, going to visit Carlisle. That's how crazy this has gotten. The man is actually contemplating leaving Italy! He doesn't do that."

"How soon?"

"If it happens, it'll be in the summer. That's all I can see." Alice plopped onto the porch swing. "I'm sorry to ruin your little party with my 'foreboding premonitions of doom.'"

Bella giggled at Alice's near-perfect imitation of Emmett. He had been getting anxious too, with all the crazy things they'd been hearing from various international friends. They were all getting itchy – to fight, to run – to _something._

"Auugah!" The grunt from the living room had both women dashing into the house, to make sure no furniture - or limbs - were irreparably broken.

"Huh?" The two vampire men sat across from each other, all their attention on the game board. Not a hair or couch cushion was out of place.

It turned out Edward was gaining ground against an increasingly frustrated Jasper. "That's what I wanted to know."

Bella groaned. "This game will never end."

"Hush!" Edward commanded, focusing on the tiny plastic men. "I have a world to dominate."

The phone rang, disturbing his quiet and, seeing the caller ID, Bella called up the video feed. "Hello?"

It was Carlisle. "Hello, Bella. It's nice to see you." His voice carried none of his customary calm, and was all urgency. "I need to ask you a favor."

Bella nodded once.

"We have a – a _refugee_ – here, and I think he'd be better hidden at your place."

That made sense. Bella was a vampire who couldn't be tracked – at least, not mentally, and nor could anyone within a mile of her be tracked. If someone wanted to hide, it would behoove them to remain close to her.

"Can you tell us anything more?" Edward entered the conversation, leaving his tiny plastic men arranged on the coffee table. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he still saw his wife as breakable. He wouldn't put her at risk; not with the political instability of the supernatural world right now.

There was a grunt and some muffled speech on Carlisle's end, though the speaker remained out of sight. Finally, "Let me!" and an old man came into view.

"Aro?" It fell out of Alice's mouth before she could stop it. Maybe her visions really weren't on the frisk.

"Do you know anything of the situation in Volterra right now?" He asked, his tone void of its usual cheer.

"A little," Bella said. They knew that something was going on. As reflected in her earlier conversation, they'd so far chosen to stay out of it. They were a peace-loving clan.

Aro hesitated before continuing, his eyes avoiding the people on the other end of the line. "I am the only one left. I wouldn't ask this of you if I wasn't desperate." Alice gasped. She was putting the pieces of her visions together. Amidst the shock of the news, Bella wondered how much it had taken of the proud old vampire to admit that.

"No," Edward growled, and Bella turned to her husband. He had one fist clenched, the other running through his hair. He gritted his teeth, and his eyes were darkening. "No."

"Really, shouldn't we discuss this elsewhere?" Bella tugged on his arm and tried to lead him to the kitchen. Edward wouldn't budge. Bella looked to Jasper, begging. Slowly, Edward relaxed and moved to the unused kitchen.

When the door was closed, Bella whirled on him. "What was that?"

"What?" He growled. "We're not doing it. He's not just any refugee. We don't want the same people after him coming after us. I won't let them touch you."

"They won't get to me," Bella countered. "They won't find me."

"I won't take unnecessary risks."

"Won't you at least hear him out?" Bella sighed. "I'm not happy with this either. I won't pretend to like the man. But if we truly are his last resort…" She couldn't bear to think of the old man all alone, doomed to die because she was being selfish and pigheaded.

"Bella," Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "Without the Volturi in power, things are going to be a mess. Chaos. Anarchy. No one will be playing by the rules anymore. I don't like it."

"You don't have to. You just have to listen to the man."

Edward sighed, dropped his head into his hands, which he ran over his face and through his hair, before tilting his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose, and nodding.

"Okay. Fine. I'll 'hear him out.'"

They returned to the conversation in the living room, where Aro and Alice were exchanging awkward pleasantries.

"So, explain away." Edward stood with his arms folded across his chest, the challenge evident on his face. Bella knew that he didn't think Aro could say anything to convince him. But, if things were as messy as Alice said they were, they were going to have to do _something_. They couldn't be peace-loving vampires very long in a world falling to pieces.

Aro spoke quieter now. "I don't know that I can explain this way. Over this phone-thingy. I don't know who is listening anymore, who I can trust."

"Then why do you trust us?" Was Edward _trying_ to be difficult? Bella squeezed her eyes shut and then yanked them open again, hoping the scene would change. It didn't.

"I trust Carlisle." Aro said, as if that were explanation enough. To those that knew the good doctor, it was.

"So, are you coming here to explain?" Bella knew this was stupid as soon as she'd said it.

"It's safer if we come to you." Jasper had been silent up until this point, but it was true. If they all traveled with Bella, they'd be safe from any rogue trackers. Carlisle and Esme's house was also bigger, and more remote, with more miles of forest surrounding them to provide for better escape routes. It was dangerous to have a leader of the Volturi near them, no matter what they did, but everyone would be safer at Carlisle and Esme's.

"Will you come?" Carlisle returned to their view.

"We owe him nothing." Edward remained unconvinced.

"I know that." Aro spoke once more. "I appeal only to your kindness."

That was what did Bella in – the man appealing to their kindness. She could be the bigger person. She could be kind to this leader of the Volturi, who had so easily wreaked havoc upon their lives more than once. She turned to Edward, and he saw on her face the thing he'd most been dreading. She'd given in.

"Fine." Edward scowled. "But we promise nothing."

Aro nodded in understanding. Bella turned to Jasper and Alice. Jasper was incredibly protective of Alice, and Alice wanted nothing to do with the situation. There was strength in numbers – the same numbers the Volturi had once feared – but would they knowingly involve themselves in something so dangerous?

"We're coming with you." They spoke in unison. Bella chastised herself for ever doubting their loyalty to their family. Jasper and Alice would be valuable allies at a time like this, and they knew it.

"We'll see you soon," Bella told Carlisle, and signed off. But, as she moved toward the stairs, in search of traveling necessities, she had to shake her head to clear it.

What had just happened? So much responsibility had fallen into their laps so suddenly.

What had they gotten themselves into? Alice couldn't see things clearly enough to explain exactly what was going on – the world was in that much of a mess.

Alice didn't seem to be having the same second thoughts Bella was. She had already found the suitcases in the cupboard under the stairs.

"Road trip!"

**Reviews are like a day at Disneyland, without any lines.**


	4. Red and Black

"_The color of the world _

_is changing day by day…_

_Red - the blood of angry men!_

_Black – the dark of ages past!_

_Red – a world about to dawn!_

_Black – the night that ends at last!"_

"_Red and Black" – Les Miserables_

Chapter Three:

Red and Black

Reigning in Alice on the packing took more time than the trip to Carlisle and Esme's did. With the abundance of clothes she was hauling around, it was as if they would be gone for months, rather than the few days Bella thought it would take to make their decision. Maybe Alice knew more than she was letting on; but then, Edward would know. Carlisle and Esme had welcomed them like long-lost sons and daughters, which they sort of were. As Esme and Edward chatted, and Alice rushed upstairs to claim her room, Bella looked around the comfy living room – familiar, except for the decrepit looking vampire ensconced in an oversized armchair. It was good to be home.

Even after all these years – nearly fifty of them! – this still felt more like home than anywhere else she'd lived. Not this specific house, or this specific living room set, but these people. Bella had heard people joke about being born into the wrong century; she'd been born into the wrong family. As 

much as she'd loved the people in her human life – people she could barely remember anymore – she'd truly felt at _home_ with the Cullens. Or, nowadays, the Cullens-Masens-Whitlocks-Mcarthys. These vampires were her family, in the truest sense of the word. It felt like coming home from a year away at college.

There had been a time when Edward refused to talk to Carlisle. Bella had been so young – they'd been living in Alaska then – and finding that they'd never be able to go "home" to their family had been excruciating on her husband. Edward had been with Carlisle the longest, and as a consequence he felt the most betrayed by Carlisle's succumbing to the Volturi's pressure. When Bella had finally found herself strong enough to drive a car without jumping into the street at passing humans, she'd not only threatened to drive out to Vancouver – where Carlisle and Esme resided - but had made good on the threat. Edward had caved. It was wonderful, to be able to at least _visit_ home, every year or so.

Emmett and Rosalie sauntered down the stairs with their greetings, living an hour closer to "home" than Bella and Edward did. Bella accepted Emmett's hug, anticipated the slight bone-crunching (even to a vampire, he was still ridiculously strong) and being lifted a good foot in the air. Rosalie had finally come to terms with Bella's permanent status in their lives, and pulled her into an awkward hug as well, albeit not so enthusiastically as Emmett did.

"So, you hear the news?" Emmett never waffled around with the point.

"That's what we're here for," Edward told him, and took a seat on the couch. "We might as well get it over with."

"Edward!" Her children may not have lived at home anymore, but she was never going to stop being their mother. She didn't much like Edward's rude tone.

Aro took it in stride, and as the family took their seats around him, he began his explanation. The warning they hadn't thought much of, hadn't heeded. How their increased inaction led to a dire and threatening situation. The untimely death of Marcus, the disloyalty of Caius. And Aro running to Carlisle for help.

Bella took it in, but noticed that her husband was silent. Perhaps he was just letting it digest, but more likely he was simmering. She hoped Jasper would give her a hand with his temper, should it flare.

Finally, Carlisle spoke. "I will not deny my friend the help he requests. The rest is up to you."

"You want to stay with us, so that Bella can hide you?" It was less of a question, more a vocal working-out of thoughts.

"Yes," Aro answered. "Something that, once we're done here, I'd love to discuss with you."

Bella gulped. _Whoops_. Carlisle didn't know that Edward had lied to the Volturi about her "talents." It was after the split, when Edward was still angry. It looked like the safest thing to do, at the time. They certainly had no plans to encounter the Volturi ever again, and it would all be forgotten. _Except vampires never forget._ She furrowed her brow at her husband, who just sneered at the guest/refugee.

"We're going to need time to talk this over," diplomacy was the smartest tactic at this point. Polite, vague, truthful.

"Of course," Aro gave her a small smile, and she felt a little uneasy. He was certain they'd cave. Carlisle had already promised him asylum. It was the first time in fifty years she'd doubted her adoptive father. Perhaps his loyalty had blinded him. Regardless, this was dangerous. Who knew which of the Volturi guard were dead, and which were traitors? Who knew which of them could break even her 

defenses. The strength of the Cullen family was the stuff of legends, but she didn't want to face anyone that dared challenge it. And if someone dared challenge the Volturi, they'd have no qualms about challenging the Cullens. They didn't really have power in this world; just numbers and friends.

The group hunt Alice had been anticipating was set aside in favor of smaller modules. Bella left with Rosalie and Esme, and once they had their fill of the wildlife, they talked.

"He's agreed to adapt to our lifestyle, if he's to stay." Esme said. It was evident that she was both a little afraid of the man, and pitying of him. She couldn't comprehend a life without love.

"That's reassuring," Bella said. It wasn't. She knew how hard it was to keep from eating humans. Even now, after one-hundred years as a vegetarian, Jasper had moments of weakness. Edward had told her (reluctantly), of how hard it was to return to Carlisle's ideals after feasting on human blood for so short a time as he had.

Rosalie had the same look on her face – the same doubt. "He won't."

"Right now, he values his life." Esme said, sitting under the shade of a towering tree. "I don't know how close it came back there in Volterra. Demetri, before he left, said it was a matter of minutes."

"And where has Demetri gone now?" If he was the only one loyal to Aro, where could he go? Could they believe Aro's tale? Edward and Jasper seemed to, which was normally enough for her… but, Bella really didn't know what to think anymore.

"He's searching for anyone – vampires, werewolves – even witches, if they'll help – to fight back against whatever this thing is."

"Vampires, obviously." Rosalie pulled Bella to the ground next to her. "Sit down. And talented ones, too. It's going to be a numbers game. And if there are that many corrupt creatures on all those continents…"

Though she'd trailed off, the other women knew what she was saying. How many were left? And how many, when they heard of the situation, would choose to fight for peace? What Bella knew of the vampires she'd met over the years, she didn't think many would.

"He asked Carlisle to join him. Carlisle says he might, if it comes to that." Bella gasped. She didn't want to see her father get killed out there. And that's what would happen, she was sure of it.

"Aren't we doing enough?" Rosalie stood, angry. "Hiding the leader of the government these guys are trying to overthrow? He can't ask any more of us."

Esme didn't say anything. It was clear she was thinking along those lines too.

Bella crumbled a twig in her hand. If Demetri thought he would need Carlisle's help… Was this going to get worse? Suddenly, she needed Alice and Edward. The confident ones, the ones aware of things that would happen and of intentions. Things were too uncertain – and out here in the woods, Bella found her dead heart doing flip-flops at the thought.

"If we agree to help, we're going to have to stay here."

"Yup," Rosalie didn't hide the annoyance in her voice.

"Let's go back now."

"Yeah," Esme sighed. "We should. I don't want Carlisle agreeing to anything more while we're gone."

As the house came into view – red brick and gleaming windows and welcoming white porch – she could hear Edward's voice, loud and angry.

"We can't do this! It's walking to our own deaths."

"What _can_ we do?" Jasper was calmer, but only by a fraction. "This is the safest option. If we refuse the leader of the Volturi –"

"- the now-defunct Volturi." Edward growled.

"- if we refuse him, what list are we going to end up on? Certainly not allies. If we keep him safe, then we've got our own protection too."

"I don't like it."

"Neither do I." Emmett had been quiet, which was unusual. Bella supposed it was because he didn't like being stuck at home while there was a fight going on. "I don't see how we can refuse. Once things have calmed down – and they will, we can't live in a world where vampires are exposed - we've got an eternity to be on someone's 'naughty or nice' lists."

"Eternity!" Edward was near-hysterical. "Do we even have tomorrow? How big is this thing?"

"Then what does it matter?" Jasper asked. "Even if we say 'no' now, we've associated with him. They could track us back to our homes and kill us for it."

"Well, not us," Edward lightened up for a moment.

"Whatever happened to taking the path of least resistance?" As the three ladies entered the house, they could see little Alice pacing back and forth in the dining room, furious.

"What is going on here?" Esme took on "Mom-mode" and stormed into the dining room. "You can be heard from halfway to Alaska!"

"Sorry," Edward muttered, unapologetic.

"Edward!"

"You're not angry over all this?"

"Of course I am," Esme admitted, taking a seat and motioning to Bella and Rosalie to do the same. "That doesn't change anything."

"Bella?"

She looked at her husband. She hated confrontation, and Edward was so stubborn. "Jasper and Emmett make sense." She held up her hand to silence her furious husband. "I'm not taking sides here. But, looking at all the facts, what else can we do?"

"Run." Edward said, the intensity of his tone not missing anyone. "We could run."

"Where?" Rosalie met Edward's gaze. "Where is safe anymore?"

"Alice?" Esme turned her attention to her smallest daughter, who was rubbing her forehead and kicking at the air.

"This is so much worse than I saw. It's awful! How could I have missed it?"

"Missed what, honey?" Esme guided Alice to a seat at the table. Alice looked so small – for the first time like a little girl, instead of a confident and giddy teenager.

"Australia, Asia, Europe – all gone to these rebels, whoever they are." She slumped against her chair. "I don't need to see it to know that Africa will cave. Then it's just us, here."

"Africa is strong," Emmett spoke, his tone as reassuring as he could be, given the situation. "They'll hold their own."

"And there's a lot of us here," Jasper added. "If it comes to it, I do know people, down south…"

"Not that." Alice's fury returned to her eyes as she glared down her husband. "It better not come to that."

"I don't think we have that type of control here," Bella stared at the table as she said it, trying to bore holes into the wood with her gaze. It wasn't working.

Carlisle came down the stairs then. "Have you settled on anything?"

Edward was the one to reply. "Yes, we have." Bella held an un-needed breath. "We'll be doing what we can to help. If that means harboring a refugee, so be it."

The relief was audible. Even Rosalie looked resigned. But, Bella wondered, if they couldn't stand fighting in an afternoon around a table, how could they fight a world war?

"Thank you." Carlisle was relieved too.

"You're not doing this 'on your own' crap," Emmett cautioned Edward. "If you're in, we're all in."

"Thank you," Bella smiled at her 'big brother.'

"We'll be staying here, then, where it's safest." Jasper spoke for the group assembled around the table. It was the most sensible decision.

"Of course," Carlisle joined them at the table. "If you need a few days to collect some things – clothes, cars…"

Edward and Alice both nodded vigorously. Edward was thinking of cars. Alice was thinking of clothes. Bella stifled a giggle. How typical.

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	5. Who am I?

"_Who am I?_

_Can I conceal myself for evermore?_

_Pretend I'm not the man I was before?_

_And must my name until I die _

_Be no more than an alibi?"_

"_Who Am I?" – Les Miserables_

Chapter Four:

Who am I?

Aro looked at the dead dear distastefully. It was foul. The blood was just… all wrong. Why, for the love of all that is holy, would Carlisle Cullen choose this to drink over the sweet and seductive taste of deep red, pulsing, beautiful…

"Hm-hmm!" Aro snapped back to attention at Edward's throat clearing. Of course. It probably wasn't the smartest idea to dwell on what he'd given up. It would only tempt him more.

Why had he given it up? Why trade one magnificent thing for what was, in his eyes, practically poverty? Now, he had to hunt for himself – something he had not done in a long time. Certainly, returning once more to one's predatorial instincts was a pleasure Aro had long since forgotten about, but to degrade one's self so fully – to running around in the woods chasing _animals_! Aro began pulling the limbs of the doe apart, scattering them as if a scavenger had ripped the animal to shreds, should a human pass this way. _Unlikely_, Aro thought, but didn't push it. The Cullens were exceptionally careful, 

probably due to Carlisle's appreciation for his time spent in Volterra so long ago, and for that he was grateful. It would be hard for any vampire to find them out, much less a human.

Edward's harsh gaze was almost enough to make him uncomfortable. He didn't like that he had no privacy around the boy. It was unnerving. He himself hadn't intruded so much upon those around him – Aro could only steal your thoughts with his touch, essentially with permission – but this boy! Who could know what he'd heard, what he _knew_ from over the years?

And Emmett, who watched his every move like a lion waiting to pounce. Or a great black bear; the man was a veritable giant. If Aro was much given to feeling fear, this was a man to fear.

Then there was Bella. _Bella, meaning "beautiful," _Aro mused. She was a beauty of a girl, even as a human – he was not so surprised that Edward had fallen in love with her. Not once hearing his thoughts and seeing everything. Marcus had marveled at the strength of their bond.

It shouldn't have surprised him, then, to learn that Edward Cullen (Masen? Something!) had lied about her talent. The boy would do anything to protect his young, stubborn bride. She was quite the gem, wasn't she? Aro smirked, he knew Edward was listening.

Of course, Edward needn't have feared. With the strength and loyalty of the Volturi guard, they hadn't needed Bella's protection. In fact, having some talented trackers within his ranks, it would have been detrimental to keep Isabella close. She would have confused the men, and things would have been just that little bit more inefficient. And in a castle so old, filled with men even older, the years at their heels, efficiency didn't exactly reign supreme. Sure, in matters of politics they were Kings of speed and practicality. Aro wondered what had become of the library, of the records he'd kept. Had century's worth of information fallen into the wrong hands? What sort of sentimental _trot_ had made him refuse to let Demetri burn the place down as they fled?

Aro took a deep breath of the wet, woodsy air. It wasn't bad, after the years in Volterra, hidden beneath the world, away from the sun and light and air. While this coven spent a great deal of time in dark places, hiding from the sun, they were able to spend some wonderful time soaking in its rays, living in a way most vampires would only dream of.

Aro would not deny that he was a selfish creature. If he was going to live for the longest of times, he was going to live like a king. He admired Carlisle, and what he'd built. The Cullens lived like kings and queens, accepting only the best for this farce of a life they lived among the humans – they were not human, could never be human, what were they trying to pro-

"Hm-_Hmm!_" Aro finished his work on the doe and stepped back, anticipating Edward's inspection. The boy hadn't warmed up to him at all. It was understandable; someone who knew so much of intentions and heard every thought – whether truly meant or not – he wasn't a person apt to trust very many people. But surely he could hear Aro's good intentions! Could he not hear Aro's desperation, could he not listen to Aro's appreciation for Carlisle's help?

The group began moving away from the carcass and back toward the road, toward the big blue Jeep Emmett had driven out here. In the two hours it had taken to get to this remote location, they had an almost-friendly conversation, wherein Emmett and Edward had recounted the car-gas-hydrogen revolution wherein vehicles were no longer powered by petroleum, and the improvements to travel in general over the last quarter of a century. Aro was not a big fan of cars, but he had learned to appreciate the human mind, unsullied by the lust for blood and the power that came with the kill. Vampires may be the superior race, but their "superpowers" rendered them apathetic; they did not have an ounce of the innovation of the human mind.

"How are you doing?" Bella was kind, but wary.

"It is unusual, and unexpected." Aro knew that honesty was the only way this family lived. "I'm not used to feeling so… unsatisfied by the kill. The hunt was nice, however. It was a real treat to move my legs." If politeness bought him bonus points, so be it.

"That's a start then." Isabella gave him a small smile. Aro watched the road out the window. So _this_ was America. Once you got past all the trees and cloudy sky, it was pretty, well… _boring_.

But Volterra, he reminded himself, was nothing now. No companionship, no rules, possibly not even anymore humans. He shuddered to think that these crazies, these _infidels_ had broken the most basic tenet of Volturi life. Had they fed inside the city? Did it matter now? There were no longer any vampires hiding there.

"You know," Emmett began, breaking the silence as they crossed a state line. "We've been talking. Once you're strong enough – to be out amongst the humans, I mean – we'll try and get you out and about. It's so boring being stuck here, day in and day out.

"Truly?" Had Carlisle been thinking this much of Aro's happiness? Maybe this wasn't going to be the most trying period of his after-life after all.

"We were thinking the Big Apple," Bella explained, and it took Aro a moment to catch up. The big apple – what kind of frivolous American entertainment was – oh!

"You mean New York City?"

"What do you think?" Emmett was eager now, anticipating the trip as much as Aro was.

"Most certainly!" Aro had to stifle a laugh. New York! The United Nations met there! The shopping was exquisite, he'd been told. And the sights! Perhaps they'd be able to go and see – oh, what was it, the one that had appealed to him, by that genius British composer… Lord Lloyd?

"Nope, never heard of him." Edward was unusually cheerful while around the old man. Aro assumed it was the effect of fresh blood on a grumpy system.

Aro chuckled. Edward knew exactly what show he was thinking of. "The Phantom of the Opera, I believe it was called. A fine novel, to be sure. I did see 'Cats' once. But I always wanted to see a musical about a man so much like our own kind."

"They opened a revival of the show a few months ago. Alice kept talking about us going – maybe this is what she was seeing?"

"Yes, let's plan on that." Aro felt infinitely better. This family were not just treating him like a man using them to hide – which he was – but they were _welcoming_ him!

Emmett pointed out some bored looking cows on the side of the road. "Edward, what are they thinking?"

"You know I can't hear cows."

"No," Emmett continued, "but you can still tell me what they're thinking."

"They're afraid the big bad vampire is going to eat them." Bella interjected. "There, argument averted."

Edward turned to her and glared. "I _was_ going to say that the reddish-brown one was wondering as to the state of her international politics, and that the one chewing is a little worried about tax season."

"Aw, the two of you are so cute!" Emmett laughed, and turned on the radio. "But please, no making out in the backseat of my car."

Bella pointed out a mud stain on the upholstery. "Believe me, we won't be."

Aro enjoyed watching the casual, easy way these children spoke with each other, the camaraderie. He remembered Jane and Alec, and their own childish pursuits – but they were always after something, more power or blood or influence with the brothers. He wondered where they were now; had they joined the crazies (for, really, Aro could find no better name for those traitors), or were they in hiding like himself? He couldn't see Jane lasting long in hiding, she was too feisty.

_Oh, Volterra,_ he lamented, _what has become of you?_

A slight vibration shocked him, and he watched as Edward answered his tiny cell phone. _Right,_ he realized, _ringing._

"Yes… No… uh-huh – of course!... About an hour… yes, he is…. We aren't… we'll be ready."

Edward put his cell phone in his pocket and leaned toward Aro in the front seat. Aro winced; he wasn't used to this degree of familiarity in being addressed.

"Esme has finished preparing your room, and Alice has stocked your wardrobe. Carlisle wants to speak to you when we return, while a few of us check around the area – I'll be going into the city – and make sure there are no vampires near."

"Thank you," Aro replied and turned back to the window as Edward sat back in his seat. So, now he was a part of the Cullen Clan. He would have to get used to being addressed so familiarly, used to sibling rivalry and camaraderie and _kindness._ He would have to get used to Alice's unusual sense for fashion – did her talents truly lie in her foresight? He was going to look like the most put-together old man on the planet. He would have to get used to Esme's mothering, no matter how much she disapproved. He wondered for a moment if they would find some vampire home for the elderly to place him in. He was fast becoming obnoxious-grandfather-we-have-to-take-care-of. He would have to 

become accustomed to animal blood and television and America. Could he get used to those things? Next thing you know he would have a drivers license!

But of course he could, and he would; he had to. He was no longer Aro of the Volturi.

"That's a good idea. We should get you a pseudonym."

And he would have to get used to Edward listening to his every fleeting thought.

Good grief, Aro shook his head minutely. This might just be worse than the crazies.

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	6. Black

"_For you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night."_

_1__st__ Thessalonians 5:2_

Interlude One:

Black

Devon Dallas was bored. It wasn't just the summer heat. Her friends had all run off to exotic locales with their families, in a desperate bid to get away from running the air conditioning. Her dad wouldn't even think of taking a few days off for a trip to the beach. The mall was boring; no one shopped there anymore – it had none of the good stores. It didn't even have a decent food court. There wasn't anything fun to do around here; there wasn't a bowling alley or an ice rink or a movie theatre or even a community pool. There was a library, but Devon wasn't much taken with books.

The town itself was boring incarnate. And Devon was stuck here.

She sat on the tree swing and stared at the sweltering pavement of the patio. What had possessed her parents to move here anyway? It certainly wasn't the "fun" environment. No, they'd come here because her mother liked to reminisce about growing up in small town Forks, Washington.

Except, Devon would bet, Forks didn't get quite as sweltering as Southern California did.

Eventually, Devon gave up on the swing. She all but ran into the kitchen, grabbed a water bottle, and decided to see if Jimmy from up the street was still around. _His_ mother ran the air conditioning. She'd play a thousand stupid video games with the incorrigible nerd, if only to get out of the heat.

The baking pavement wafted up through her flip-flops, and her toes curled away on instinct. You really could fry an egg out here. Maybe even bake a cake. She moved faster; the less time her feet spent melting, the better.

It was so hot that the air was creating those fuzzy mirage things – the pavement up ahead looked like it was steaming. The air swirled quickly, and it glinted in the sun. Devon shook her head – air didn't glow. It was really bright; she should have thought to pick up her sunglasses.

She walked on. As she passed the Morris house, the bushed rustled. _Stupid dog's out again_, she thought, and turned towards the yard.

"Here, Pookie, here girlie!" She cooed, clapping her hands and clicking her tongue, trying to get the dog to emerge from its hiding place.

"Come here, Pookie!" She urged, glancing up the street to make sure no one was watching. "I'm just going to take you in to your Mommy, where it's nice and cool, okay? Come on out, Pookie."

The bushes rustled some more, and Devon breathed a sigh of relief, moving forward to scoop up the pooch before it scampered off. Pookie was always getting out, which did nothing for Mrs. Morris' shot nerves.

She saw a the light glinting off the dog's tags, and adjusted, cooing once more for the beast. "Come on now."

"Certainly." Dogs growled, but they didn't talk. Devon watched the bush, and backed away a step. That wasn't a dog in the bushes.

The flash of light was all but blinding, and Devon found herself unable to scream as she was pulled into the shade of the tall hedge.

There was a snap, and then there was black.

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	7. Emotions

"_Once men are caught up in an event they cease to be afraid. Only the unknown frightens men." _

_- Antoine de St. Exupery_

Chapter Five:

Emotions

Bella didn't like this arrangement. She hadn't been its number-one-fan before, but at least she'd been willing to give it a try. After all, it couldn't be _that_ bad, she had reasoned. She was wrong; it was that bad.

In the past week she'd been no further from the house than the edge of the driveway. Whenever she was outside of the house, she'd always been within sight of "Aro, the par-o-noid" as Emmett had dubbed their unconventional house guest. He truly was paranoid, always looking over his shoulder and questioning whether they'd seen something or heard something or if they were telling the truth, but he didn't want to impose any more and wouldn't ask them to touch his hand and on he went, in the same self-pitying tone. Bella was sick of him.

Jasper had to feel everything – every annoyance and frustration and anger – and he remembered why he had liked their previous living arrangements. With the family some of the time, on their own the rest of the time. The best way to avoid going crazy.

Bella was driving him up the wall. It wasn't her fault, of course. She'd been roped into this without much option. Such a caring being, always looking out for everyone else before herself – often to her own detriment. She'd given Aro the benefit of the doubt, and now she – and Jasper – was suffering for it.

So, Jasper had done the sensible thing, and left the house with Alice, for some quality shopping time. He grimaced. A mall full of antsy human emotions wasn't much of a trade-off, but they were easy enough to ignore. They didn't know that their world was quickly spinning into an end. What he couldn't ignore was Alice's pouting, and the way that clothes didn't seem to assuage her temper the way they used to.

For as long as he'd known her, Alice calmed herself down by shopping. Shopping was her 'me-time,' shopping was what she enjoyed most about pretending to be human, shopping was her passion. She had an eye for color and style that Jasper's Y-chromosome could never comprehend.

But, for the first time in her vampire life, shopping wasn't easing her pout or the straightening out the furrow of her brow. Even when shopping had changed from clothes to commercialism, Alice could find some respite in the act - but now, when they'd encountered some size problems at Nordstrom (who doesn't carry size zero in the Petite section?), it only served to make her more distressed. With all of this stress, Jasper wasn't surprised that Alice had resorted to making a great deal of her own clothes. Jasper's usually happy, perky Alice was in a funk, and he didn't know what to do, or how to fix it.

"Alice, honey," he spoke softly so as not to arouse her temper, "let's just sit and talk for a while, okay? We don't get to do that enough anymore."

It was true. With all of the family around now, they rarely got time to spend to themselves. In this anonymous crowd in this anonymous mall, perhaps Jasper could figure out what had his wife so irked.

They took a table in the food court, with all the noise of mingling humans – teenage shoppers and hungry crying babies and mothers and businessmen and women, and just looked at each other for a while. No searching the future, no interpreting or influencing of emotions. Just studying each other's faces. Each carried lines that looked out of place on their perfect vampire features.

Jasper was struggling to understand the way Alice was nibbling on her lip – worried, perhaps – when finally, Alice spoke.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't see things anymore. I think Carlisle's going to go with Demetri to look for help – I see flashes of that - and then his future disappears. I'm worried he'll go back to Washington, to La Push. And then, everyone's just so grumpy and annoyed and I get grumpy and annoyed too… and it just topped it all off when they didn't have that mauve silk blouse in an extra small!"

Jasper took a moment before replying. "We'll talk to Carlisle. No one wants him to go, but if it's for the best… we might have to let him. He's got plenty of friends – he'll be able to use that to help him. I've been trying my best with the emotions, but…"

"No one wants an artificial happiness," Alice finished for him. "But I just don't like feeling so… so 'bleargh!'"

Jasper twisted his lips into a smile. "That's a new one. Tell me, dearest, what 'bleargh' feels like?"

Alice giggled, and swung her legs from the chair a little, in thought. "Maybe today isn't the best day for shopping."

"Maybe it isn't," he agreed, and stood up, reaching out his hand to pull his wife to him. "We'll come back when everybody is feeling better, alright?"

Alice simply nodded as they began their trek toward the parking garage. It felt so strange to be leaving the mall with only one bag – a pair of sandals that had been on sale, in Rosalie's size – and Alice felt even more discouraged for it.

Jasper couldn't take much more of his wife's melancholy. He bent down to her ear, and spoke too low for the humans to hear. "How about some nice fresh lynx, on me?"

Alice purred in the back of her throat, a spark of happiness flooding through Jasper. "Mmhmm."

"Dinner it is then," Jasper said as they climbed into the car, and headed for the mountains.

OOOOO

Alice had seen it. She was glad to be away from Edward right now; she needed to collect her own thoughts before sharing them with Mr.-Over-Analytical. Not that she was much better these days. This was just too much to simply spit out.

She told Jasper a little of it, as a way to assuage his worries about her. That Carlisle was going to leave and search for help was already a given; she had no doubt that by the time they got home – an event she kept putting off – he would have already received the phone call that would decide his fate. President Moleweller contacting her father for help - who could have foreseen that? It had even caught Alice blindsided. Had Aro designated Carlisle as some sort of "emergency contact?" It worried her that they could be tracked – had been tracked, for all these years – by the CIA or the FBI or some government vampire task force. She didn't see anyone doing prison time or any hefty fines – but she'd been missing things right, left and center these days. It was just too much to process at once. They'd all thought they'd been pretty good about hiding. Disappearing off the face of the earth every few years wasn't easy, and the Cullen coven had it down to an exact science. Except, apparently, not.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Not knowing whether Carlisle would go to the wolves first, or as a last resort, was excruciating. He was her adoptive father – she cared about him! What would it do to the family – to Esme – if they lost him? Had he no sense at all? But Jasper was right. Carlisle had friends; it was practical, from a military standpoint, that he leave sooner and get help sooner.

Something puzzled Alice more than anything else so far. Usually, humans kept a few feet away from the vampires, walking a little further around them than they would normal people, a subconscious reaction – survival instincts.

But today, it was as if they made a focused effort to keep their distance. Alice knew that they couldn't actually know exactly what she and Jasper were, but the distance they kept was worrisome – as if they could sense the danger in the air. Their forthcoming destruction.

She kept seeing it, and she didn't like it. Without the Volturi there to enforce the rules – and with rogue vampires descending upon the world – the national governments had their hands tied. Whatever they had done to keep this secret over the years was going to collapse, and then people would _know_. They would see her in the street and run, or call the cops. Some might try to stand up to her, as if she was threatening to eat them. Some vampires would relish in this change of climate. The heightened sense of fear, the adrenaline, running through the prey; even the thought had Alice yearning for a sip.

If these rebels weren't careful, there would soon be no more humans to gorge themselves on. And then it would be vampire against vampire, angry and hungry and destructive.

It would be the end of the world as they knew it. Except for the witches and wizards – they would stand back and watch and chuckle and keep to themselves, like they had always done.

Alice hadn't seen all of the details, but she was a good guesser. She knew about cause and effect. She had studied history, had studied human behavior, had years of experience witnessing the future before it happened; even without her foresight, she had a pretty good idea of what would happen.

Sitting in the car, on the way to the mountains, she knew that Jasper felt her anxiety. She tried to keep herself from this train of thought, but to no avail. Her visions kept plaguing her with their images, horrible and terrifying and disgusting. Her imagination was on overdrive, examining every possible scenario, finding no relief; each outcome more terrifying than the last.

She needed to share this with someone, but she couldn't. Not just yet. A few more hours of enjoying the pretense of things being okay. The world wasn't really going to end on them. And, Alice, reassured herself, there were so many things she didn't know about the situation – like who was leading the revolt, and why, and how strong their numbers were. That could change everything.

Still, Alice would avoid going home. She'd keep Jasper too, as long as she could; the military man would want to be in the midst of the fray. Once he heard that Carlisle was going to rally the troops, he'd leave too. She'd seen it, and she was having none of that.

"Let's stay a few days out here," she suggested, breaking the silence of the ride. "It's just so stifling back home. They'll understand."

Jasper waffled. "And if something happens while we're gone?"

"We have our phones." Alice smiled, and tried a little of that dazzling that always seemed to get Bella so tied up in knots.

"I guess we can take a look around, make sure no one's been out this way," Jasper warmed up to the idea. "In case Aro protests."

"Yeah," Alice smiled, just a little. Even though she lived in the future, and knew the inevitability of fate, she clung to the hope that if they just didn't go home, her little world wouldn't cave in on itself just yet.

**I apologize for the sporadic updates - instead of finishing the story before I began posting it (I was afraid that Breaking Dawn would change things too much for the idea to be relevant anymore), I just got a few chapters head start. I've been trying to finish a new chapter before posting a previously written (and edited) one, but things have come up recently and I haven't been writing like a maniac the way I wish I could. I have chronic fatigue syndrome, and when I'm particularly tired my brain doesn't quite function enough to really focus on things.**

**That being said, I know where this is going, and I have no plans to abandon the story. Quite the opposite - I'm beginning to get to the really fun parts of writing it (though, actually, this has been pretty fun throughout). I was trying to update twice a week, but I can't control my disease, or predict how I'm going to feel one day from the next. I do promise that I'm giving my best to this story (I really do love it!) and I will try to update consistently (no month-long breaks or anything like that).**

**Much Love,**

**thesunshinekid**

**PS: Reviews are like a Coach purse on sale.**


	8. Get Your Fight On

**Author's Note: I apologize for taking so long to update. I'll admit, Breaking Dawn threw me for a loop, as far as this story is concerned. "Red and Black" is now decidedly (and outrageously) AU – and for a while I was wondering if anyone would even bother to continue to read it. Then, around midnight this morning, I decided that I didn't care, and was going to finish it anyway.**

**So, here we go.**

"_I thought I'd explained it clearly before. Bella, I can't live in a world where you don't exist."_

_Edward Cullen, New Moon, page 509._

Chapter Six

Get Your Fight On

Carlisle Cullen – husband, father figure, doctor, complete and utter _dolt_. Esme seethed as she listened to him recount the conversation with the President. What happened to keeping hidden? Chatting it up with the Commander in Chief wasn't exactly going to keep them unnoticed. What was he thinking? While they didn't all live together anymore, he still had a responsibility to his family. And to his wife! Where did she fit into all of this? She was just going to have to go along with it, like she always did. Carlisle made the decisions – and with his years of experience on his side, Esme had been content to support him from the home front. No more! Not when he was going to get himself killed.

And what was going on here? Where was master military man Jasper, when he would be so valuable in this situation. Esme felt a growl coming on, and suppressed it. She was going to have a few words with her shortest child, the one who had seen this coming and purposely decided to take "a few 

days away from all that emotion." Ha! As much as she loved her daughter – as much as she knew Alice wanted to protect her husband – surely she knew that the best decision was to be here, now, where the family could form a united front and prevent this stupidity.

Over the years, Esme had to constantly remind herself that, despite all of his years, she had married a 23-year-old man. The right age to still enjoy a good wrestling match – _out on the lawn_, as she frequently reminded him – and to come up with ideas crazy enough that anyone with any sense would avoid them. Except, he was Carlisle Cullen – posing as a doctor and adoptive father to five kids, and definitely _not_ a vampire? He could pull it off.

Esme loved her husband dearly, but like any male, he had a few moments that were, indubitably, not so bright. Like right now.

She was surprised that Edward wasn't on the rampage yet. He was her oldest child and youngest child, and he had the old soul and the temper tantrums to match it. But Edward had changed his tone over the last two weeks, and she stifled the urge to laugh. Edward had been so eager, as a human teenager, to go to war. Like his adopted brothers, he never wanted to miss out on a good fight.

Bella's face was carefully blank, a trick she'd learned from her husband. There would be no interpretation of her lovely features today. She was probably angry – she could throw a fit to match that of her husband if she wanted – but she was probably already coming up with a plan, an alternative. You could count on Bella to be thinking of anyone but herself. Like Esme, Bella didn't see the thrill of the fight as outweighing the danger of losing a loved one.

Carlisle finished, and Esme found her best glare. "So you're just going to leave us all, stranded here, to go off on a scavenger hunt?"

Carlisle was calm. "I've been asked to help. The humans are noticing things now – and Demetri is becoming overwhelmed. I have friends – resources – I can't very well refuse."

"No," Esme muttered, "you never did learn to say no."

A rumble came from Carlisle's normally quiet throat – he'd heard that. "I'm trying to do what's best here. If I do nothing, a lot of people are going to die."

"Let them," it wasn't like Esme to be unkind, and everybody noticed it. "I won't sit around and watch my family fall apart. I'm not going to let you get yourself killed."

"I'll be fine." Carlisle's voice belied more of the urgency he felt. "I'm not walking into any danger zones."

"We don't know where those are! For all we know it could be a trap!" Bella broke in now, and turned to her own mate. "Aren't you going to stop him?"

"He has a poi– "

"Don't even think about it!" Esme whirled on her sons. "And you, Emmett! I know that grin. You are _not_ 'going with.'"

Emmett's face fell, but his eyes were fierce. Esme may have been the maternal figure in her family, a loving mother and a mediator, but right now she couldn't provide any authority. If Emmett wanted to go, she couldn't stop him. She couldn't stop Carlisle either, but that didn't stop her from being angry.

"Thank you," Rosalie's voice was unusually even, though she snarled at her husband. "Someone needs to face the facts here, and Esme's right; this is stupid."

"Ridiculous," Bella added.

"Suicidal." Esme finished. "You can't do this!" How could she make him see? She could survive without her husband by her side – it would be painful – but it was manageable. But if Carlisle was never to return – pulled to bits and scorched beyond repair? Esme remembered her final human act – stepping off that cliff's edge, welcoming the void, reveling in the imminent end. She'd had nothing left to live for – until Carlisle had proved her wrong. She could live for her family. For him.

And now, he was yanking that all away.

"I have to." Carlisle sounded broken now – a desperate man with a desperate duty – but he wasn't backing down. Maybe he knew what terrible imaginings were running through Esme's mind, but he was determined to do "the right thing." Always the "right" thing.

"No, you don't. No one is making you!" Esme gave up on the anger, and turned to pleading. "You can stay here. You can be safe."

"For how long? How long before we're pulled into this? It's just a matter of time."

Time; at once so unimaginably long, and now suddenly so little left – it was always a matter of time. Esme felt her chest pulling apart, her lungs fighting for air, but she found her last fighting words.

"A house divided cannot stand."

"Then let's not be divided," Carlisle put a hand on her folded arms, tried to soothe her, "let's talk it out."

Esme felt like an angry thirteen year old as she shoved her husband away and stormed out of the room, but she was beyond caring.

OOOOOO

Rosalie sat down on the porch swing, where her mother lay staring at the roof, counting knots in the wood.

"I don't like it either."

Esme grunted. Rosalie shifted so that her mother's head lay in the daughters lap. She began playing with the swirls of caramel colored hair. Did Esme know how beautiful she was? The soft curves, the easy smile – the way she carried herself, with a mission in life. More than anyone else in the family, Esme had a reason for going on – more even than Carlisle. She was a mother.

Esme turned her head, to watch a hummingbird flit around one of the vines crawling up a trellis. "Do you have any idea what it's like, caring so much?"

Rosalie shook her head, though Esme couldn't see it. Of course she didn't. Rosalie was inately self-centered. Her family meant the world to her, but she couldn't imagine the conflict Esme faced.

"I want Carlisle to go – I want Carlisle to save people. They shouldn't die; not one of them." Esme let out a sob. "But I can't lose him. I can't lose any one of you, and I most certainly can't lose him."

"Maybe you wo –"

"Why do you think Alice isn't here?" Esme sat up, and crossed her legs underneath her on the swing. "Why do you think she's avoiding us?"

"She's seen something." The revelation stumped Rosalie. Couldn't she trust her sister anymore? "What could it be?"

"What else?" And she knew what Esme referred to. The imminent danger; death, even. Alice had resigned to the futility of changing the future; now she was just avoiding it.

Rosalie sighed, and leaned her head on her mother's shoulder. "I don't know if I can stop Emmett – not if there's a fight. He's so strong; it would be selfish to keep him here."

"Well," Esme hugged her daughter tightly, the presence of the lovely girl a reassurance where there seemed to be nothing else. "While your father is gone, I'm in charge. Emmett isn't going anywhere."

Rosalie was comforted by that. While everyone felt free to argue with Carlisle, no one argued with Esme when she laid down the law. This afternoon's argument had them shaken up. Esme had never publicly taken Carlisle to task for his decisions – she always waited until later, until she'd cooled down and could speak rationally. Carlisle was usually more open to compromise. It was an event that only highlighted the desperation, the urgency of the matters at hand.

They were silent for a while, mother and daughter, watching the fading sun, the quiet twilight. It seemed that with the setting sun, the dark brought on a new set of fears – fears they didn't want to face. They both knew that Carlisle was right; they were going to be sucked into it at some point. But couldn't he see what he was doing to them? To _all_ of them?

If he left, they would lose all of their men. Jasper would feel an obligation to lend his expertise; Edward was too fiercely loyal to his father, and with his mind-reading too valuable an asset; Emmett couldn't resist giving someone a good bashing in. Neither Esme nor Rosalie had experienced losing a partner, but they'd both seen Edward, all those years ago. Esme hurt at the thought of it; of one her children being in such excruciating pain. She felt a brief renewed sense of the fight in her, but it was snuffed out just as quickly. She wasn't going to lose Carlisle over this, but she certainly wasn't going to let her last words be angry ones.

"He's an idiot, but I love him."

"You should let him know." Rosalie pulled away from her mother's embrace. "Go and say goodbye."

Esme nodded, and pulled her daughter into a brief, final hug. "Why don't you go and be with Bella. She's so sick of Aro, I think she's contemplating killing him herself."

"Ooh, I wonder if I can get in on that gruesome fun." Rosalie joked as they stood from the porch swing. It squeaked with the loss of weight, and as they stepped into the house, the last vestiges of the sun disappeared from the horizon.

It was dark now.

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	9. Grandpa

"_I'll get you my pretty, and you little dog too."_

_The Wizard of Oz_

Interlude Two:

Grandpa

Sarah was glad to get away from the city for the weekend. Everyone there was so tense nowadays. She worked as an office assistant in an accounting firm, and the usual chat of gossip over the click of tabulated numbers was replaced by a paralyzing silence, interrupted only by the shuffle of papers and the occasional cough. There were so many disappearances – so many _killings_ – and no pattern to them. If anyone had seen anything, no one was coming forward. Likely, no one who had seen anything had lived to tell the tale.

When she wasn't busy filing and sorting and taking phone calls, Sarah looked up theories on her computer about what was going on – if only in the hope of some tiny bit of reassurance. She found everything from aliens to Armageddon, but no reasonable explanation for what was happening. It was terrifying; the idea that you could be next.

Sarah had been taking turn about with her sister Glenn on the weekends, taking care of Grandpa. The stubborn old man lived in an old farmhouse miles away from the nearest town, with plenty of land; it had been in his family for generations, he said, and just because he was getting on in years didn't mean he was going to abandon it.

So, this weekend, Sarah would make sure that the fridge was stocked and the house was clean and that the trash wasn't piling up. As much as she complained about it, she really didn't mind helping take care of Grandpa. He was a character, that old man – he had nicknames for everybody, and whether or not they made any real sense didn't matter. Her given name might be Sarah, but Grandpa had always called her Dorothy. It seemed that now she couldn't so much as drive the road to his house without being washed by the memories of her happy childhood.

She remembered Fourth of July barbecues from her elementary school days, massive games of sardines throughout the old house. Recently she took great pleasure in brushing the dust from each of her late grandmother's collection of porcelain teddy bear statues, which Sarah had watched grow over so many years; even in Grandma's final days, when Sarah was in a freshman in college, she still wanted to go to the market and find "just one more."

Sarah pulled the car off the road when she came to the driveway. The gate was broken – had been broken for as long as she could remember. She had suggested, more than once, that Grandpa get someone out to fix it. He wouldn't budge. _What was the use in fixing a gate that nobody had really bothered about in more than twenty years?_

What was the use indeed, in getting him to change his mind?

She pulled up in front of the house, next to a rusting tractor, and stepped out, stopping for a moment to pay attention to the grand old structure before making her way inside.

But what was once a sprawling two-story ranch house was no more. Sarah braced herself against the car, feeling the pull of wheezing as an asthma attack came on. It was like a car wreck; she could not avert her eyes from the scene before her.

Holes in the wall, as if a stampede had come through. Pipes sticking out at odd angles, the entire upper floor collapsed, the front door beaten to a pulp on the crushed porch. The house looked like it had suffered an air strike. There was nothing left of it.

Sarah fumbled for her inhaler in her purse and leaned against the car hood, considering what could have caused this. A tornado? Perhaps, but she would surely have heard of any particularly damaging tornadoes to happen within the last week. And she didn't know her grandfather to be the type to experiment with explosives – she wasn't sure that it was the right type of damage anyway.

It took a moment to register the one important detail she had missed. Sarah forgot all about caution, and ran towards the house, dashing over broken boards and rushing between tossed furniture. This place was a disaster.

She turned her head right and left, seeing nothing, taking nothing in. Where was Grandpa? Why hadn't he called? Had he gotten caught in this calamity?

Sarah stepped forward, inching toward the living room. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she had walked through the front door and Grandpa had been anywhere else than watching old reruns in the living room.

The stuffing of the couch was strewn about the room, the coffee table split in two. The front bay window was shattered. The television was in pieces, as if it had been kicked around like a soccer ball. Sarah decided that there was no way her grandfather could be here, and turned to step back out into what had been the hallway.

It was then she noticed the pale hand protruding from underneath an overturned armchair, distinctive wedding band glinting in the sunlight. Sarah rushed to the chair and pulled it up as far as she could – she wasn't very strong.

"Grandpa! Grandpa! Can you hear me?"

Sarah dropped the chair as quickly as she'd raised it, clapping her hand over her mouth incase she puked. Her grandfather wasn't underneath that armchair.

Just his hand.

**Reviews are like picking up a favorite book, thumbed and dog-eared and read over and over, and smelling it.**


	10. No More Mrs Nice Mom

"_I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them." _

_Jane Austen_

Chapter Seven:

No More Mrs. Nice Mom

In more than a century of knowing Esme, he'd never seen her in such a fury. She could be fiercely protective – like a mother bear watching out for her cubs – but she'd never been so fierce as she was now. Where Edward had seen her chastise and make rules and enforce those rules within her family, he'd never seen his adoptive mother work herself into such a flurry of activity and anger.

Obviously, it had a lot to do with Carlisle leaving, and from the tenor of her thoughts he was fairly sure she wasn't actually angry at Carlisle – she was just angry at the situation, angry in general…

Angry at Aro. He didn't have to be Jasper to read her emotions on her face, but it had taken a few minutes of dissecting the tumult of her mind to figure out exactly what was going on. Esme blamed Aro for pulling them all into this mess.

He listened harder – it wouldn't do if she violently murdered the ex-leader of the Volturi. Not that she _would_… he'd just never seen her so overtaken by her feelings.

Esme wasn't going to kill Aro. But she did have other plans.

To start with, Emmett found himself with an old fashioned vacuum and duster, and instructions to work backwards from the top floor. Rosalie was told to wash all the cars sitting in the driveway. Edward was asked to stay close, loading the washing machine, and focus on Aro's mind. Bella was to take a run – not too far away, mind you – but Esme wanted her to get some fresh, non-Aro tainted air.

With the living room empty, the interrogation began.

"Why did you come here?" Standing in front of the coffee table, arms crossed over her chest, looming over Aro's seated form, Esme looked a formidable opponent.

The Volturi vampire was not easily intimidated. "I've already told you, when I told your husband."

"I'd like to hear it again." Edward hadn't heard her use this voice since they were all living together, fifty years ago now, when Jasper and Emmett crushed the tomato plants in a game of toss-the-football gone madly out of hand. It was the "Mom" voice; the unwavering one, that spoke of rules and punishment. He heard Aro's mind falter with surprise at this woman's ire. Aro knew something of rules and punishment, though he couldn't figure out which laws he'd broken, to incite such wrath.

The old man wouldn't fight. "I came here seeking asylum. I know Carlisle to be a compassionate man, and your family to be loyal to the Volturi purpose."

"Was it your intention, then, to send my husband off to war?" Her pitch rose a little at the end of the sentence, betraying her emotion.

"It was not." That much Edward could tell was true.

"Then you had nothing to do with the phone call my husband received yesterday? From the _President_ of the United States?"

Aro faltered here. The truth might offend this woman, and he could find himself sitting on the edge of the freeway like a sparkling blood-sucking hitchhiker.

Edward gasped when he saw Aro's train of thought, and the old man realized that attempts at hiding information would be fruitless, and stupid.

"When the wars in the south became… severe, I found the President asking for an emergency contact – one of us within his own country who he could turn to for advice, should the President be unable to reach me. Carlisle has always been such a man."

As predicted, Esme was angry. She held her arms tightly, as if keeping herself from hitting somehting. "Did it not occur to you to ask permission?"

"It did, and I did." Aro was smug; he had found his advantage here.

"I haven't heard of it."

"Of course you haven't. The emergency contact was more for the President's peace of mind than any actual use. I didn't foresee ever being unable to respond to a threat to our secrecy. Carlisle believed as I did – that it wasn't going to be an issue. He lived among us for years; he's witnessed our power, the strength of our guard. For two hundred years that emergency contact has remained unused."

"Until now." Esme's words were short and sharp.

"Obviously, times have changed." Aro's voice took a sad turn; he had, after all, lost everything.

Esme paced a bit, stomping a little as she went, trying to relieve the tension in her body. It only served to rile her up more. "So, you're telling me that we've been tracked this whole time? All those illegal files and transactions and all this secrecy? Murder?"

She finally finished her pacing and sank into the overstuffed couch. "We're wanted criminals."

Aro leaned forward now, and spoke softly, as if to reassure her. "The President is more than aware of your status within this world, Mrs. Cullen. He knows that you are not governed by human laws, but by the laws of the Volturi. To that end you have been granted immunity."

"The Volturi are no more." Esme was harsh, biting. "Where does that leave us?"

"Where does that leave any of us? We are encroaching on chaos."

Esme was quiet for a few minutes, collecting herself. It was enough, Edward thought, for her husband to disappear one afternoon – how much more painful for her to discover that, even if she hadn't wanted it, they were all deeper embroiled into this than they'd realized.

Aro sat back in his chair in the silence, feeling himself the weight of what was going on. It would be a pity to lose such a good man as Carlisle Cullen. While he wasn't sure about this family's feeding habits, their dedication to secrecy, the effectiveness with which they covered their tracks; Aro could only wish all of his subjects were so conscientious.

Esme took a deep breath, and studied the face of the man she was beginning to hate. "What, _exactly_, is going on here? If the President knows, who else is aware of our existence? What, _exactly_, is happening? What is so dangerous that you are hiding here?"

Aro took a moment before answering her; Edward could hear him organize his thoughts, debate over what or how to edit them. The old man wanted to tell this woman the truth – but he didn't want her involved more than she already was, knowing more than she needed to know. It was too dangerous. Edward was momentarily grateful to the ancient vampire, and simultaneously frustrated that he wouldn't spill the whole truth.

Yet again, Aro knew that even if he didn't vocally share everything , Edward would still hear it, and so he took a focusing breath and began.

"We found ourselves distracted by an unfortunate, untimely incident in Bulgaria. I have no doubt anymore that it was simply a ruse, planted to keep us unsuspecting. The rebels sneaked up on and surrounded Volterra. We found out at the last minute, and we sent the guard out to defend ourselves – but we were sorely outnumbered. It seemed for every one they killed, another one emerged from the shadows."

Esme nodded, listening quietly, purely absorbing Aro's words. She wanted so desperately to understand.

"You know, as well as I do, what type of creatures we are, Mrs. Cullen. While you and your family may have found a way to live peacefully – to be civilized – most of our kind are consumed by their thirst. The thirst always comes first. Even within my own coven, we lived in a atmosphere of political maneuvering, always wanting more blood.

"These vampires were no different. Some were newborns, some were wild and unruly, creatures who had been hiding in forests and jungles for centuries. When it came down to it, the in-fighting got the best of them. The rebel army split up into smaller groups and dispersed across the world, each seeking their own bountiful source of blood."

"Then why are you here?" Esme kept her voice level, but Edward could hear the rising irritation in her mind at this _infuriating_, _inconsiderate old codger _who kept beating around the bush.

"When the rebel army began to fall apart, our guard retreated. It was going to be a massive project – tracking all of these rebel vampires and snuffing out all of this nonsense. We needed to recoup and to strategize.

"But, even these smaller factions of rebels were big, and some of the younger ones were still slaves to their thirst, too much to keep away from the city. In retrospect, it was a _brilliant_ tactic – use the newborns to distract the guard, put them at ease, while the more skilled rebel fighters ambushed our men, and destroyed them.

"Mrs. Cullen, I left Volterra because, in the wake of this disaster, our government crumbled. Our guard was reduced to the cowards who had run away. My brother, Marcus, is dead. Caius has formed some unholy alliances, and has taken a great many of our most loyal supporters with him. Your husband was the only man I could think of to ask for refuge. He is a compassionate man."

"That he is," Esme agreed, her voice still steady, but her mind racing with questions.

Aro saw the quizzical look on her face. "Ask away," he said. "I would rather we open the lines of communication, than have you unjustly angry at me."

Esme bristled at that, but spoke nonetheless. "You are still afraid that these rebels seek your life."

"With Caius on their side, they are becoming less like guerrilla warriors and more organized. Undoubtedly, they search for me as we speak."

"And you still have the cell groups to contend with – the ones that got away?"

"Yes. I do not know if they are still in contact with whomever was leading the rebellion. Either way, they are dangerous. I have never seen the most precious of our laws hanging so precariously in the balance."

"We will be exposed." Esme sat in quiet, letting the full brunt of the sad truth sink in. She had already seen her family scattered – she couldn't bear the idea of losing them to angry humans. Humans were genius creatures; they could come up with a way to destroy vampires, if so inclined.

Aro broke the silence. "We don't have the resources – not yet – to stop this. I did not ask your husband to leave, but I want you to know that he will be indispensible, if we are to succeed."

"No, you didn't ask him," Esme conceded. She looked up, and then stood. "I owe you an apology, sir. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I was unforgiveably rude to a houseguest."

"You are entirely forgiven, Mrs. Cullen." Aro nodded simply, and picked up a newspaper from the coffee table – searching once more for what could possibly be going wrong in the outside world. The conversation was over.

Esme walked out of the room with a lot on her mind, and a sad stirring in her heart.

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	11. Angry

**Author's Note: I'm sorry about the delay on this chapter. I should be getting future chapters out sooner, however. Please leave a review!**

"_If you can look into the seeds of time and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak, then, to me." - Macbeth 1.3.61-63_

Chapter Eight:

Angry

"They're angry at you."

"_I_ could have told you that."

"We have to open the door sometime."

"Does it have to be right now? You know, how about a trip to see Mount Rushmore? We haven't done that in _ages_."

The door opened for them. "Get in."

Jasper growled. Edward was angry, and Jasper didn't appreciate that. He knew that the family depended on Alice to tell them what was going on – as if, just because she knew what _could_ happen in the future, she was _obligated_ to make it public information. Edward glared at Jasper, who continued fuming as he followed his wife into the hallway. He hoped no one needed calming down – though, really, just because he could calm someone down, didn't mean that they could force him to –

"You alright, man?" Emmett clapped a hand on the back of his brother.

"Lots of stress in the air," Jasper brushed him off and kept moving, guiding Alice into the living room, where the family – minus Carlisle – had been lounging.

"So Carlisle did end up – "

"Alice, don't even bother." Rosalie stood, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and stomped off to the garage, mumbling as she went, "and I hope you didn't destroy your brakes again…" Alice's knack for seeing things other than the road while driving tended to wear down her brakes easily.

Jasper cooled a little to see Alice pull Esme into an awkward hug.

"I'm sorry, Mom." And like that, all was forgiven. Something may have changed in Esme – he could feel it, a sort of aggression he'd only seen emerge when she was protecting her family – but Esme could never hold a grudge for very long.

Bella hugged Alice as well, just glad to have her home – a comrade to complain to. She was significantly more antsy than she had been when they'd left. Aro was wearing Bella down – Jasper would ask Alice to watch, should the poor woman snap.

Edward kept glaring. "We would have appreciated it if you had been here the past few days."

"We had our phones."

"You were out of area." There were very few places left in North America that didn't get excellent cell phone reception. Alice had chosen the only spot within three hundred miles where they couldn't be contacted.

"My wife was upset."

"There's been a lot of upset going around recently."

_She hasn't even told me what she saw! All I know is that, whatever it is, it's got her really worked up._

Edward pulled Jasper onto the back porch. "Why would you let her run off like that? Obviously, she knows something important."

Jasper felt the last shreds of his patience wearing thin. "Just because she's seen something doesn't mean she _has_ to share it with everyone, like some carnival fortune teller."

Edward growled. "You chose to be involved. And when you're involved, you have a responsibility. Bella is putting her life on the line every single day following that man around, and the two of you run off because Alice doesn't want to share? So all we know now is that we have something we really, _really_, need to be worried about."

Jasper considered punching out one of the slats in the porch railing, but remembered the change in Esme's demeanor since they'd left. It was remarkable, being able to control others' emotions, and simultaneously struggling with your own. He turned back to the fuming Edward.

"I'll talk to Alice."

"Good." Edward made his way toward the house, but Jasper couldn't help but stop him.

_I know you. Carlisle's gone, which means you didn't fight all that much over his leaving._

Edward turned slowly. "Surely you, of all people, would understand the situation."

"I've barely been here fifteen minutes! I haven't even heard the whole story."

"Come inside. We'll talk."

OOOOO

Jasper hadn't felt this instinct in forty-three years, ten months, and two days. Forty-three years, ten months, and two days ago, Alice had come home from a weekend in Manhattan with thirty-three new pairs of Jimmy Choos in tow. Her closet had all but burst at the seams.

Jasper had threatened to throw out everything. With the disbandment of the Cullen clan came the end of the annual Spring Cleaning Day – and it had only taken seven years for Jasper to go crazy. He hadn't – gone crazy or thrown everything out - they now kept all of their things in their room at Carlisle and Esme's; Alice wasn't allowed to travel with more than two suitcases worth of clothes.

Suffice it to say, she had become _excellent_ at vacuum packing.

As Jasper watched Esme fielding calls from Carlisle and passing on messages to Aro from Demetri and Edward trying to keep a running tab on who was where and thinking what, he felt that familiar itch once more.

He wanted – no, _needed_ – to organize something.

He could see it all now – the dining room transformed into a command center. A large interactive map on the wall, where they could track the movements of Carlisle and Demetri and the rebels and the good guys. Someone could man the station at all times, searching the computer for human news documents that might indicate rebel activity. They would be able to answer the phone as calls came in and stockpile information. As Carlisle and Demetri began gaining supporters, they could keep them informed as well. Eight people, four hour shifts – this didn't have to be too terrible.

Now that he thought about it, it would be a wonderful time to rack Aro's brain for previous battles, previous vampire wars. They could start searching for patterns, for weaknesses that could work to their advantage. He wouldn't mind scouring his library for any pertinent information on human wars as well.

The others were getting restless; a project would do them good. Begin preparing for a battle; begin securing the property and stowing the valuables in the basement. It had been a while since they'd fought; Jasper could review fighting technique with them. Esme was skittish – maybe some hard work cleaning the place until it was spotless, washing clothes and repairing hunting gear, working in the garden would bring her peace of mind.

What would be truly glorious, in Jasper's mind, if they really did get involved, would be to slip Edward in as a spy, have him wander around inconspicuously and listen to what was going on. He could see it now – oh the surprise on those idiots faces when they learned that they'd been found out!

Jasper snapped from his reverie to find Edward staring at him, no longer angry.

"Sounds like fun."

"We need to go into town and buy a computer – the fastest one they have. Carlisle's gotten lazy with his." Jasper had been appalled when they'd first returned to find a computer five years out of date, with no new software, sitting in the basement.

"And your map, of course."

"If all else fails, we could do it the old fashioned way."

"Paper and push-pins?"

Jasper grinned and pounded Edward's fist.

"We're going shopping!"

They were out the door before Alice had time to respond with, "huh?"

OOOOO

Edward stared at his phone. Jasper held his breath. They'd lugged the ugly grey new computer, printer, and copy machine into the back of Edward's car. They had sped down the road, eager to get back to their wives, their family, and their new project. They chatted and joked and laughed and caught up, as Jasper regaled his brother with tales from his recent hunting trip.

Until Alice called.

She couldn't see Carlisle's future at all anymore, and several other family members' was fading as well. It was as if he wasn't there.

To Alice, everything was turning black.


	12. Red

"_It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood." - Macbeth 3.4.151_

Interlude:

Red

Janie kept running, and refused to look back. She wasn't afraid of turning into a pillar of salt, like Lot's wife did. She was afraid of something much worse. She hopped a low fence and kept running, already too far away from her car. Not that it mattered. These things moved faster than cars; she'd seen one stop a car, rip the door to shreds. No, her little red Nissan would offer her no protection now.

She couldn't hear the footfalls behind her anymore; maybe they'd given up on her, found other prey more interesting. She didn't know. She didn't know how far away was far enough away from these things. There might be more than just the four she saw at the mall.

They were very beautiful creatures – and young-looking too – she imagined that if she'd succeeded in dragging her daughter along, these people would definitely be the subject of conversation. Pale skin and alluring voices – she'd heard one speak, before she tore away from the store, one of the first to flee out of a broken window – these creatures had barred all the exits. She remembered the terrifying red eyes that held your gaze and melted your insides. What were you going to say?

And then you died. They snapped your neck. They sucked your blood. They moved on to the next victim.

She'd heard the stampede behind her, and heard the screams of the half dead – lying on the floor, blood spilling from the bite mark. Agonizing screams, the type she'd have expected to hear in the midst of the fires of hell. She'd once witnessed a car crash, where the poor driver couldn't get out fast enough. She'd heard the shrieks and the vehicle and its occupant were engulfed in flames. She'd had nightmares about those shrieks. They weren't going to leave her memory soon.

Neither was this.

Janie felt her legs tire, but pressed herself to move on. She was out of the immediate danger of the mall. The massacre had begun in the department store where she'd been shopping for unmentionables, but it had quickly moved out on to the escalators, into the food court, through the racks of various clothing stores. The attack would spread, further and further outward as these beasts became more vicious.

She had to keep running. She would run all the way home, beg her husband and daughter to leave behind the valuables and get into the car and they would drive. They would drive fast and far away.

That thought didn't comfort her. What if these _things_ were there too?

Would Mark and Joanne even believe her tale? How could they not; Janie was a mess. She'd run through fields and vaulted over fences and had slipped in a puddle of fresh blood on her way out of the danger zone.

She tried not to think about that. It wouldn't do any good to throw up now. She couldn't slow down. She had to get away from these things.

She knew that she was afraid and unreasonable. But these things were faster than her, and she remembered the keening laughs, the sadistic mirth on the faces of the predators.

These things fed on the fear. She imagined the adrenaline in her blood did something to the taste…

She was going to have to find _somewhere _ to throw up.

It wasn't until she was all but a mile from home, in streets she recognized, that Janie even thought about slowing down. Her legs were moving on automatic, her lungs were burning, and bile rose in her throat at every one of the horrifying thoughts that passed through her mind. She remembered a bus stop – shelter of some sort – near the post office. She'd sit there for a few minutes, to catch her breath before she made her way home.

Janie all but collapsed on the bench of the bus shelter, and felt the shuddering of her breaths, realized there were tears streaming from her eyes. She was weeping with fear, weeping with relief, weeping with horror for those poor people who couldn't get out.

She rested her head against the cool metal, and closed her eyes. Maybe this would all be over soon. Maybe this was a bad dream. Maybe these creatures weren't anywhere else; just some terrifying science experiment gone wrong, and it happened to hit her town, and when she opened her eyes everything would be fine.

The world would keep on spinning. No more people would be dying by the hands – and teeth - of the monsters. She would be fine.

Jane could hear the thumping of her heart reverberating through her whole body, shaking on the bench. She sweated as if in a fever, and her head pounded with the rush of blood.

_Blood…_

The red behind her eyes turned to black as Janie passed out.


	13. Convincing

"_You never know till you try to reach them how accessible men are; but you must approach each man by the right door." - Henry Ward Beecher_

Chapter Nine:

Convincing

Carlisle stretched his arms out over his head and felt each of his joints pop. "Nice…" he hissed, as he began jogging into the woods, stretching his legs.

Unlike Edward-the-collector or Rosalie-the-restorer, Carlisle didn't much like cars. He dealt with them because humans used them, but he would much rather walk or run everywhere. On the ground, using his feet and his muscles and breathing in the fresh air.

He chuckled at the thought. How very _old-fashioned _of him. How very _British_ of him.

Despite so many hundreds of years in the US, living amongst the humans, you really couldn't teach this old vampire new tricks and not expect him to snarl a little.

He was somewhere in Washington State, though he hadn't exactly been paying too much attention for the past couple hundred of miles. He wasn't near Forks or La Push yet, which was fine. Carlisle wanted to hunt before meeting with the wolves – if there were still wolves in the area. With all of the vampire mayhem going around, he was pretty certain the furry creatures were once more roaming.

If not, that was fine too. He, a lone vampire not usually given to violence, was not looking forward to this meeting.

He hadn't specifically told anyone where he was going to be either. Esme would possibly stop speaking to him for this. He would endure it; he would rather his wife be ignoring him than dead. She didn't need the worry right now, and he didn't want any of his children to so much as consider anything rash.

Of course, there was the minor setback of Alice losing sight of his future altogether as soon as Carlisle's future mingled with the wolves'. She would be in a tizzy; the girl didn't like flying blind. Of course, if she hadn't specifically seen Carlisle's untimely destruction, surely she would know that he had aligned himself with the wolves…

There was always the possibility that Alice, in all the confusion of recent weeks, didn't even notice Carlisle's magically disappearing future. But he wasn't going to count on that; he might believe in God, but he'd also seen Murphy's Law at work a few times too many to discount it.

_Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

Carlisle desperately hoped for the opposite; hoped that the wolves would spare his life and he could rally troops in this war and win it and return to his wife and family.

Maybe that was too much to hope for, but he was too deep in now to turn back. Carlisle would just have to take one step at a time, and watch his back.

He couldn't ignore the nagging pessimism, Edward's voice in the back of his mind.

"_Not even vampires have eyes on the back of their heads."_

OOOOO

Carlisle stepped lightly through the forest, keeping low and alert. He could smell wolves from here; there was a pack, at least three. He wasn't yet at the boundary line, though he wondered if it was moot anyway; these wolves might not even know of the treaty, and even if they did it was unlikely they would respect it. A wolf's instincts were to kill any and all vampires encountered – as swiftly and mess-free as possible. With so many dangerous vampires on the loose right now, Carlisle could easily get lost in the shuffle. He had to be careful with his approach.

It didn't help that these trees and the wet ground were permeated with wolf-stink. The stench of wet dog was only enhanced by the murky atmosphere. These creatures could sneak upon him, and he would be none the wiser, until he was already dead.

Carlisle stopped, and took stock of his surroundings. Forks, it seemed, hadn't changed much in the past fifty years. The forest boundaries had receded, due to the constant presence of the logging industry, but the town hadn't grown much. He assumed that the people were much the same as well.

Carlisle hadn't moved, but the pungent odor of wolf was getting stronger. He had been discovered; now, all he had to do was prove to them that he came in peace, with only the best intentions.

"We've been waiting for you." The sound was low, the rumbling voice of a giant man. The wolves were closer than he'd realized – but, at least one of them was in human form. Carlisle turned around slowly.

"Have you, now?"

"Moleweller told us all about you. Says you won't eat any of our people." The speaking man was a few inches taller than Carlisle, his skin several shades darker, and his hair kept in a buzz-cut. The type of man that could easily belong to the military, intimidating new recruits. He was flanked on both sides by men that could easily have been his brothers.

"I won't. You can take my word for it."

"Can we?"

"I feed from animals instead. No harm will come to your community at my hand, or you are free to do with me as you wish."

"Fine." The leader pulled his mouth into a thin line, questioning the benefits of faith in Carlisle. Carlisle decided to begin his pre-planned spiel.

"The governing body of vampires has been deposed, and many of our kind have gone wild. I'm looking for supporters to track and destroy them. We have a war on our hands, gentlemen, and if you want to keep your community safe, it would behoove you to join me."

"We could keep the bloodsuckers from killing our people." Carlisle could have heard the doubt from a mile away.

"There are too many out there, and they have no respect for the sole rule that has governed our kind for centuries – we exist in secrecy. These rogues will expose us, and if there is no secret to be kept, they will not hesitate to take their fill."

"We are strong." The one to the left of the leader, a shorter, stockier man, spoke up..

"How many are you?"

"Just the three of us," the man spoke uncomfortably now. Carlisle realized that he was no more than a really big teenager.

"You can help stop this." Carlisle tried to sound enticing, though Jasper would have been better at it. "You can help save the world – and I'm not joking here."

"You just pointed out – there's only three of us." The leader remained unconvinced.

"Do you know of any more of your kind?"

"Some in North Dakota."

"I'm sure you will be more useful at persuading them than I."

"What're you going to do?" The leader was being won over, but he was still wary.

"I'm going to try to drum up support from my own kind. I have a few friends who employ the same eating habits as myself."

"If we agree?"

"Here is my cell phone number – and here is my home number. My family will be able to help you if I am unavailable."

"Family?" One of the others scoffed. Carlisle didn't respond, choosing instead to stare down the leader.

"We'll call those guys in North Dakota." Carlisle resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I have to continue moving. I have friends in Alaska that I would like to visit personally. Thank you for your time."

The shortest one shrugged. "Saving the world and all that."

"Of course," Carlisle gave them a nod, before running back to his car.

OOOOO

Carlisle tapped the speed dial and plugged the phone into the charger as he maneuvered the dark car onto the freeway.

"Esme! That was the easiest negotiation of my life! I'm on my way to Dena-"

"You jerk! You had us all worried sick! You could have at least called – but no… Carlisle's doing things his own way now. As soon as he's away from the wife and kids – it's all risks and party times for the good Doctor Cullen. Pfft."

"Esme, honey…"

"Don't you _honey_ me! First you run off into the woods on your _mission_ from the President… and then you disappear off the face of the earth. What were you thinking? Did you want me to have a heart attack?"

Carlisle chose to disregard the improbabilities of his wife having a heart attack, and chose to address the main issue; his motivations.

"I didn't want you to worry about me, more than you already are."

Esme's tone softened, "That's not much of an excuse…"

"You'd try to stop me, and we can't afford the time for you to send the boys out here."

"Well…"

"Esme, dear," Carlisle used his 'placating' voice. "I will call more often. I'm on my way to Denali."

"You've already called them, haven't you?" She sounded worried. _Rightfully so_, Carlisle thought.

"I would like to meet with them personally, to discuss how they can help us. You know how they like to lay low."

"Be careful," Esme advised, resigned to her husband's travels. "I want you back in one piece."

"I'll be careful."

"Drive safely."

"Of course."

"Be careful if you have to stop in any of the big cities. That's where they're gathering."

"Yes."

"Don't go out when it's sunny!"

"Esme? The signal is getting low. I'll call you later."

"Brush your hair before you get there!"

Carlisle hit _End_ and smiled.

No matter how crazy the world got, some things never changed.


	14. Rally the Troops

"_Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,_

_Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,_

_Welcome to your gory bed_

_Or to victorie." _

_Robert Burns_

Chapter Ten:

Rally the Troops

Jasper had picked the most out-of-the-way area he could find in Montana, and proceeded to set up a vampire destruction "Boot Camp." It hadn't taken more than five minutes on the phone to ascertain that these wolves were all raring to go but had only the basest of instincts to rely on. The North Dakotan wolves were not much better. So, while Carlisle was away recruiting vampire allies – their friends in Denali _still_ needed some more convincing – Jasper was doing his bit for "the war effort."

Alice said that Eleazar would be heading out with Carlisle sooner rather than later, contacting more friends and more than doubling the number of vampires they had on their side. Still, Jasper knew that they were dreadfully outnumbered. The enemy hadn't made enough decisions for Alice to see the outcome, but Jasper was fighting against a diminishing hope.

He remembered a scene so many years ago, teaching a group of eager vampires and werewolves how to destroy an army of newborns. He'd reveled in the thrill of it then – the years of experience and level-headedness of their group had nearly guaranteed success. But this man who once thrived on war was now feeling everything compress around him. Esme was anxious and struggling to keep her outbursts in check. Aro was paranoid, dreading every corner and every shadow, certain that death was on his doorstep. Bella was suffering from cabin fever – so used to racing behind her mate through the forests outside their remote home, now dogging the footsteps of an ancient man who jumped at his own reflection.

Edward had taken to Jasper's projects enthusiastically, manning the desk and helping with research. Emmett was raring for a fight and had reveled in carrying furniture and working with Esme on more protection for the house. Rosalie holed herself up in her garage, making every family car as light and as fast as modern technology would allow. Alice sat at the dining room table with a notepad, her eyes distant as she watched images of the future swirl before her, informing the others as soon as the details changed – whatever details she could ascertain, that is.

The wolves had agreed that Montana would be a good, central location for their training – and they could easily run there in a day or two. Edward and Emmett had come out here too, each valuable fighters.

Eight wolves, of varying colors and sizes, stood assembled before Jasper. They stood several yards back from the vampires, as if dealing with undead skunks instead of undead men, but their muzzles were pulled into eager grins. Young boys ready for a big fight; the glory of war.

Jasper didn't have enough time to teach them what he knew about the not-so-glorious aspects to war, however. Tonight – and probably well into tomorrow - they would focus on technique and strategy.

As Jasper began explaining, buff Emmett and quick Edward demonstrating to the left, the atmosphere changed.

Because, despite the hopelessness of the situation, and despite all of the emotions overwhelming the air like humidity on a hot day, Jasper was in charge. Jasper was leading a group of well-equipped fighters into war. Wolves built with the sole purpose of ripping "bloodsuckers" to shreds, and an entire clan of vegetarian vampires motivated and driven; Jasper could almost taste the excitement in the air – the anticipation. For a few hours, at least, he could let go of the despair, and get lifted up on the metaphorical adrenaline rush.

OOOOO

President Moleweller stood at the window. The murder streaks across the country were worse now. Los Angeles, Chicago, Manhattan, rural towns in the Midwest, beach resorts in Florida. No place was immune. He knew it wasn't some gang of serial killers, or some twisted cult, or terrorists. He knew that human forces couldn't stop these creatures.

People were no longer just finding the bodies. They were watching them die. But these things – they looked human – and suddenly no one could trust their neighbor anymore.

They were in a state of national emergency, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Carlisle Cullen was out there, somewhere, rallying the forces of good to take down this evil – or so he said. The President laughed, a low honk of hysteria. What good was the promise of a vampire? For all he knew, Carlisle Cullen was behind all of this.

Even the President was jumping at his own shadow.

He watched the twilight, the sun falling, painting the sky pink and orange and red.

Red. President Moleweller was sick of red. His son had cut himself on some rose bushes while out playing soccer with his friends. Only a few days ago, the President had simply soothed his son with a band aid and the promise of ice cream.

Now, red meant certain death.

The President worked nights now. Nighttime was playtime for many of these creatures not brave enough to risk the brightness of the day. He didn't feel safe at home in his bed. He was no safer here in his office, surrounded by human security, but the pretense kept him sane.

Of all the things the country needed right now, the last of them was for the Commander in Chief to lose his wits.

Moleweller waited for the sky to fade to black.

OOOOO

Carlisle pleaded with Siobhan, all but begging into the phone as he sped his way south.

"I understand that this is risky – but everything is at stake, either way things go."

He let out a rush of air as Siobhan argued back, and he slowed for a red light. He was on his way back south, having convinced his Alaskan friends to begin searching for rebels throughout the Northwest. He could only pray that they didn't run into the wolves – things didn't need to get any nastier than they already were.

Finally sensing a break in the argument, Carlisle stole in with the clincher. "Listen – here's how it goes: if we don't stop them now, we all die down the road. Stopping them now isn't walking to our certain death – not yet, anyway. Not doing anything, we might as well be playing Russian Roulette."

_"I'm still not happy about this,_" Siobhan hissed.

"Neither am I," Carlisle said. The light changed to green, and he hit the pedal again. "And frankly, once this is all over, I might very well retire."

Laughter pealed from the other end of the line. Carlisle's retirement was about as imminent as pigs sprouting wings.

The call ended, and Carlisle pulled up to a gas station, thankfully shrouded in cloud cover. He'd noticed a patch of bad weather recently, uncharacteristic for the summer – and he wondered if it was an omen of things to come.

_Or, more likely, _he thought as he popped the tank lid, _one of the young new vampires has some atmospheric controlling abilities and no idea how to filter it._

He tapped his phone again, speed dialing "headquarters" phone – Jasper had thought to acquire a line specifically for the command center. Bella was at the desk, her voice a little surprised. It must have been a slow day.

"Hey! What's up?"

"I'm passing through Vancouver, and I was wondering who we still hadn't heard from. Do you have the master list in front of you?"

"Yup – " he heard the shuffling of papers, " right here! We're still looking for Gareth, you know. Had a report yesterday that he's in Wyoming, but nothing else. Guess he doesn't have a cell phone."

"Guess not." Carlisle groaned inwardly. He wasn't much use at tracking, having spent so many years stationary, and now he had an entire state to canvas – if Gareth hadn't moved on yet.

"You okay with that?"

"Perfect. See you soon."

Carlisle knew that sitting back and watching the world fall apart wasn't an option – compassionate man that he was, he couldn't bear to think of such suffering – but a tiny part of him growled at the prospect of more driving, running, hunting out old friends.

Worrying about wolves and rogue vampires.

Running out of wiper fluid.

Whoops.


	15. Waiting

"_How much of human life is lost in waiting?"_

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Chapter Eleven

Waiting

Rosalie drummed her fingers on the wooden arm of the plush waiting room chair. She sighed. _The witches had a waiting room._ My, how things had changed.

She hadn't been anywhere near magical folk since the seventies, when Carlisle was called in to the then-governing Ministry of Magic give a lecture on modern vampirism. Back then, the Ministry still ruled from England; wizards from the seventies wore tie-dye robes and listened to music that would give anyone a headache.

Now, Esme and Rosalie sat in a dark wooden waiting room somewhere in the middle of Russia. The floor was wooden, the walls were wooden, the furniture was wooden – all polished and pristine. There was a tiny man sitting in the corner – a gnome, Rosalie guessed – and his every breath floated smokily on the air. It was cold here.

Vampires would be powerful allies in the fight against these rebels, but it would be all too tempting for them to switch sides. Rosalie knew the call of blood – the lust for death – was much stronger than most of these eternal creatures could bear. Jasper had suggested calling upon the Eastern Warlocks for help. Aro had fizzled at the idea; huffing and puffing and stating in no uncertain terms that it would be "a wild gooseberry chase" (it turned out that, for all of his knowledge, Aro could be so _old_ sometimes). Naturally, Esme had jumped at the idea.

Rosalie knew that both Aro and Jasper had valid points. Jasper had focused on the strength of the Eastern Warlocks – their defense, the added strength of magic, and the incentive against world-destruction-by-vampire. It would seem downright ridiculous for the governing wizards to ignore the problem – especially since it would, eventually, fall into their laps anyway.

Sadly, Aro had lived a long time and had known these people just as long. Witches and wizards liked their privacy, kept as far away and as isolated from the "muggle" world as they could, fearing detection and the downfall of their society. After the fall of the Ministry and the construction of the Eastern Warlocks, they'd become even more particular, trusting no one. They'd seen too many traitors from inside their own ranks.

Why then, should they trust anyone now? In a time of crisis, all of their defenses would be up. It was only the personal recommendation of President Moleweller, the excellent reputation of Carlisle, and the seal of approval from Aro that had gotten them pointed in the direction of the front door.

Rosalie feared that this could be the end of the line. They would have no help from these stupid magicians, and then they'd be sent packing, back to their untimely deaths.

Esme looked similarly strained.

Rosalie varied the rhythmic tapping of her fingers, finding an absurd joy in recognizing the tune. The theme to the Harry Potter movies.

How ironic.

She couldn't imagine what she would do if her own vampire society was "outed" in the way that Rowling had exposed the wizarding world. Probably scream, a lot. The publishing industry may have gained from it, but with all of their secrets exposed, the Ministry of Magic had fallen apart. Uproar amongst the magically inclined folk. Poor Harry Potter himself was unceremoniously stomped to death in a stampede away from Diagon Alley during prime shopping season.

Which kind-of put a damper on the ending to the seventh book. Not like it mattered; Alice had ruined it for them all anyway. "An accident!" She'd claimed.

Right, and Edward would someday just "accidentally" cut his piano up into firewood.

Esme put her hand over her daughter's to still the almost violent tapping. "Sweet, they're ready for us."

Oh. Rosalie had missed that.

Still, with more grace than these stupid wizards would ever own, she stood and followed her mother into the court room.

OOOOO

Esme tried not to be intimidated by the fat balding man with warts, sitting in dark robes behind what looked like a judge's bench. However, that fat balding man with warts had a wand, and probably knew of ways to kill vampires that Esme couldn't even dream of. It would be best not to annoy him.

"What business brings you before us today?" There was a very matronly looking woman sitting to the right of the fat balding man, but her similarities to Esme ended there. Her voice was cold, her accent heavy - like sludging through jello wearing hundred-pound weights – and her eyes an eerie green.

"We come as emissaries," Esme began. "We represent the will of President Moleweller of the United States, Aro of the Volturi, and my husband, Carlisle Cullen."

There was a small man with jet black hair sitting only a few feet away from the women, hunched over a desk. He took notes, looking up to confirm each name Esme listed before copying it onto the parchment.

"You are here about the Italian business with the rogues," said the bald, warty man. His English was much smoother than his assistant's. "We want no part of it."

"May we remind you," Esme spoke up quickly, unsure of what Rosalie might say in a temper, "that a thirsty vampire doesn't much care who or what he eats, so long as it is not a werewolf."

The imposing man seemed to consider this; the scribe continued scribbling; the assistant began to stare down Rosalie, uncertain of the beautiful woman who remained silent.

"You are saying," the apparent leader spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, "that we cannot avoid this trouble."

"It is greater than anything we have seen before." Esme confirmed. "The Volturi are nothing now. Every day, people are dying. Italy has been ravaged. It is like an epidemic – a plague of sorts."

"We are isolated," the assistant was even sterner. "We have not heard these reports."

Rosalie chimed in. "Your people are in grave danger, even if you choose to ignore it."

The warty man in the robes steepled his fingers under his chin, considering. "What is it you propose we do?"

"Aid us in stopping this pestilence before we see the premature end of the world."

"With our magic?"

"And anything else you have that might be of assistance." Esme nodded.

"We risk discovery."

"We will all be beyond that point soon," Rosalie leveled her eyes at the man. "We risk _death_."

"I meet with the rest of the council at the end of the week. We will discuss this then." Esme felt her breath leave her. It was Monday; how much time did they really have to waste?

"We'll be in town." Esme told him, and the women excused themselves. Evasion was the most popular of the Eastern Warlocks' tactics. If only it would work now; this situation couldn't be evaded, avoided, or ignored. One thing they were assured of; they weren't leaving without an answer.

OOOOO

"Emmmett!" Rosalie groaned into the phone before stuffing her face into a pillow on the hotel bed. To say she was frustrated would be an understatement.

"Rosaaaaaaaalie!"

"Okay, seriously? Not funny." What had possessed her to think her husband would be of any help in a situation like this?

"Sorry." He sounded like he meant it. Emmett was nothing if not genuine.

"They're just all so persnickety!" Picky, precocious, petulant _witches_!

"Persnickety?"

"Ugh! Yes!" Rosalie hung her head from the bed, watching her hair fall in the mirror behind her. "They're like… Like, you know those trees in Lord of the Rings?"

"The Ents?"

"Yes, them! They couldn't make up their minds if you paid them in rubies!"

"What do you want me to say, sweetheart?" Emmett tried to be soft, "we knew that they might be like this."

"We've been waiting for three days!"

"Three days isn't _that_ long."

"It is if you're waiting!" Rosalie moved again, pulling herself to a sitting position on the bed. "And Esme's just so _calm_ about everything. I mean, you saw how she got with Aro before we left, right? And now she just sits back and lets these half-baked party clowns walk all over us!"

"Esme doesn't want to anger them."

"Maybe angering them would incite them to do something!"

Emmett sighed into the phone. "Rose, poppet, as nice as a good fight sounds, we've got to keep level heads about this. These warlocks, they know ways to kill vampires that don't just include ripping us to shreds and burning the remains. They'd make werewolves look tame. We _need_ them on our side."

"It's just not fair," Rosalie pouted.

"It isn't," Emmett soothed her. "But is any of this?"

**Reviews are like eating an In-N-Out burger and french fries on a day where there was no line while simultaneously managing to avoid the overactive air conditioning vents.**


	16. Elephants

"_The best way to eat an elephant standing in your path is to cut it up into little pieces." _

_African proverb_

Chapter Twelve:

Elephants

Demetri watched the Cullen house loom into view with a fierce distaste for it. He didn't like the way Master Aro had taken to this family, the trust he'd put in this Carlisle and the powerful coven surrounding him. No, Demetri didn't like that at all. He thought that they would have been better on their own, hiding in some far away location until everything blew over, until the world managed to end itself, emerging only when it was safe again to roam and feed and setting up reign once more. Demetri imagined that he could be one of the new kings. A life with the Volturi was the life of a dream – violence and feeding and all of it sanctioned by the Kings. A life as one of them …

But Demetri was getting ahead of himself. And worse, he had to be careful with his every thought; that crazy Edward kid could hear him.

The worst of it though was that he was thirsty enough to slaughter the whole town, except he couldn't because the Cullens didn't like that – and living here meant living by their rules. That wasn't right; the Volturi should not have to submit to this Carlisle Cullen, this abomination. Demetri had to make this stop quick and leave again, before he did something that would get him ripped to shreds by the Muscle Man in the coven.

OOOOO

"And here," Demetri pointed to another spot just east of the Sierra Nevada. "And that's it for the US."

"And the rest of the world?" Jasper wasn't looking at him – was scrutinizing the map.

"I don't have such specifics, because I haven't left the country, but I've got a good idea." Demetri explained. Jasper toggled over to the interactive world map, and Demetri began adding to it, listing locations from memory.

Blue for the areas controlled by the Eastern Warlocks. Brown for known werewolf packs. Yellow for their vampire allies.

And red for the rogues they were trying to destroy.

The map was awash in red. With all the little dots, it was beginning to look more like a pointillism painting than strategy.

Jasper continued to make marks where Demetri listed them, but Demetri's mind wasn't completely on the task. As a member of the Volturi guard he had rarely been paralyzed by fear – didn't often cower for his life.

There was so much red, and so little yellow. Even with all of the brown and blue, would it really be enough?

They might as well just pack it in now and surrender. No one was going to survive.

Behind him, Edward growled – a low rumbling of displeasure.

Right; the mind reader.

"Is that everything?" Jasper asked, stepping back and surveying the mess the world was in.

"As much as I could find out, yes." Demetri nodded, and looked at the map.

That was… _curious_. Seeing it all illustrated like this – he hadn't put these things together before…

"What?" Jasper felt his intrigue.

"Australia." Demetri muttered.

"Australia," Edward breathed.

Jasper got it. "Australia!"

OOOOO

Everybody knows that to win at a game of Risk (a board game wherein the goal is to successfully take over the world), you've got to start from Australia. On the game board, there's only one way in – and subsequently, only one way out. You're either squashed before two turns around the board are up, or you're in the game for the long haul.

To beat the player that started in Australia, you need some good tricks up your sleeves. You need logic and cunning and strength and a good bit of luck.

_What, of these things, _Jasper wondered, _do we have?_

"You have a mind-reading spy."

They all turned to look at Edward. He'd answered someone's thoughts again – and while they were all pretty used to it, it didn't make it any less infuriating.

"You're a crap tracker." Jasper pointed out.

"I'll take Demetri with me. Where there are rebel leaders, there is Caius." Edward explained, "He can find him in no time."

"An indomitable team."

_And exactly the one of these freaks I wanted to get away from,_ Demetri thought. Edward scowled in his direction.

Bella stood in the doorway, having overheard the conversation. She stood leaning against the frame, her legs crossed and her arms across her chest, a seeming stance of repose, but her face was hard and her eyes fiery.

"You're not high-tailing it off to Australia. No. No way. Nuh-Uh. Non. Nyet. Nunca. Vous n'irez pas faire. It's not happening."

"It's a perfect plan!" Jasper growled, and braced himself on a chair in front of him, crumbling the edges. Of course, they'd come up with the perfect plan, and one of their picky wives would start boufing off about it. It was practically tantamount to the law of gravity.

"Australia is a huge place. How are you even sure to find anything?"

"They'll be concentrated around big cities. Vampires like blood. People have lots of blood. Ergo: lots of people; lots of blood." Edward smirked.

"Don't get smart with me." Bella moved from her position into a crossed-arms full-glare mode. "Esme and Rosalie aren't back yet. Maybe they'll come back with help."

"Or maybe they won't." Jasper said.

"I'm not happy about it. I'm coming with you."

"Now _you're _ off your rocker."

"What?!" It was one thing for her husband to propose dashing off around the world, but something _else_ for him to insult her. Not only was he not going, but… but…

"Edward makes a good point," Demetri finally spoke. "Two of us is more than enough if we want to remain unnoticed."

Bella snorted. "This is ridiculous."

"This is strategy." Jasper indicated the map.

"_How_?"

"Well, if you want to eat an elephant, you have to do it one piece at a time." He explained. Demetri cringed at the imagery – animal blood repulsed him, much less _elephant._

"Right. But we're not eating elephants."

"No, we're going to Australia to kill the bad guys."

Bella grunted. "You sound like some pathetic action movie. Lights, camera… epic fail!"

Edward moved over to his wife, placed a hand on her shoulder, spoke softly into her ear. "Love, we haven't got a choice."

"Yes, you do."

Jasper pushed Edward aside. "How many people are you going to let die before you're happy enough to let us go? How many of our own kind are you going to let keep destroying each other?"

Bella sighed. She'd known all along that they were right. She just wasn't very happy about it. She needed to vocalize.

"Fine. So, elephant? I don't get it. Wouldn't that mean that you're going to go around the world killing off all their supporters one by one?"

"I was getting there." Jasper said. "My point was, we don't have that kind of time. So how are you going to get rid of this elephant?"

"How, Master Yoda?"

Jasper smiled, unfazed. "You stab it through the heart."

**I'm not gonna ignore the elephant in the room. I like reviews. You, my readers, can tell me if you loved it, hated it, how I can make it better…**

**So, please, give me reviews. I use them to feed the elephant.**


	17. Done Hanging Around

_When elephants fight it is the grass that suffers._

_African saying_

Chapter Thirteen

Done Hanging Around

Bella whacked at a tree – small, perhaps a young oak – and called out across the empty, wet forest. "Timmmber!"

It was reckless and stupid and not particularly kind to the already suffering environment.

It was the most fun she had in weeks. Living a life in the shadow of a great man was rough on anyone. Living a life always only a few feet away in physical proximity from aforementioned great man was enough to make anyone a little suicidal.

Though, Bella knew, vampires had a hard time committing suicide. It required creativity, and she wasn't really serious.

Just frustrated.

Once the dust settled and the fallen tree had come to a rest, Bella plopped down on its trunk and stretched out her feet in front of her. She didn't really need to hunt today. She was good with her control; she was prepared and conscientious and she'd gone only two weeks ago. What she really needed was to get away from Aro.

A vacation in Switzerland would be nice. A dip in Loch Ness would be lovely. A few weeks learning Norwegian, or exploring a jungle, or just being as far away from the infuriating Italian man as she could – that would be a dream.

As it were, Bella was lucky to get more than a few miles away from him. Right now, she was further from the house than she'd been in weeks, and only because she'd claimed a need to eat, and Emmett and Jasper were remaining constantly within Aro's line of sight.

If he annoyed them as much as he annoyed her, it wouldn't be long before their protection was worth about as much as a floppy disk.

Gosh, floppy disks. To think – she had been human when they'd gone out of fashion. Such a long time ago!

Time; the day she woke up and realized that she was finally equal to Edward felt like only yesterday – and yet each torturous moment since then felt like a lifetime. How did Ancient Aro feel – with all of his memories and histories and all of the things he'd seen?

Whenever she was around the old man (which was often) Bella had taken to imagining a carton of milk a month out of date. It smelled ripe and congealed and wasn't a pleasant thing to have in the house.

Well, she couldn't help it. In her mind, it was the perfect comparison. Aro was more annoying than Charlie on a protective kick.

Charlie… She hadn't thought about him in a while. He'd died years ago, and she'd had to go to the funeral in disguise.

It was the first time, in all of these years, that she'd understood Edward's hesitation to let her become a vampire. How much she had wanted to be there at the funeral, dressed in black and grieving her father's death with the family surrounding him. Instead, she was left with her unchanging body and the resentment the years wrought. All she'd wanted to do was properly mourn her father, whom she remembered far less than he deserved.

She knew facts; the color of his eyes and the way he wasn't much of a talker. But she could no longer conjure up a picture or a memory of the man. She could acknowledge his existence – but no more.

Perhaps this was a vampire survival mechanism, some form of evolution to last them through the ages they would live. If you cannot remember your life, you cannot regret it.

She hadn't heard when Renee died. They hadn't been able to keep in touch.

Some things it was better to just not think about.

Aro – her frustration at Aro – annoying, irritating, smothering Aro.

_Oooh!_ But she was so sick of Aro. He came and he brought trouble with him and now her husband was running away to Australia to spy on vampires that might not even be there.

This might not end quickly. This could go on for years – the fighting; the advance and retreat, the switching sides. Good vampires, bad vampires. Was there such a thing as a good vampire? Vampires, whose instincts were so inherently murderous. And this slaughter would go on; more terrorizing, more destruction, and the lust would be slaked – but never completely – it wouldn't be enough until all of the sweet sweet blood was spilt and there was nothing more. They would destroy each other.

What was the point? There was no way this was going to end well.

Bella sighed and stretched out upon her back on the fallen tree. This train of thought did no one any good. All doom and destruction and depression – who ever benefitted from that? A little bit of hope and their cause, and the vigor with which they pursued it, would be renewed.

Where would hope come from now? From the pitiful number of werewolves that had agreed to help them? From Carlisle's many friends – many, but not enough? Would hope come from those stubborn wizards currently stringing Esme and Rosalie along? They all knew that the answer would be a sound "No."

Would Edward bring back hope from Australia?

Would Edward come back from Australia?

Bella got up and began to run. Screw it; thinking was getting her nowhere.

OOOOO

Rosalie sat unmoving, so completely still that men carved from marble moved more than she. It was fitting, she thought, that vampires – skin as cold and hard as stone – felt so comfortable sitting so frozen in place.

It was Saturday, and they still hadn't heard from the Warlocks. Esme had mentioned, breaking the silence so briefly, that she didn't think they would hear from them at all at this rate. And, for three days, the woman had sat so completely still, lost in their thoughts and in the swirling of time around them.

Carlisle had called; he was home now, having exhausted every resource he could think of. Now, it was up to their friends to come to their aid. Edward was in Australia with Demetri; the two hadn't killed each other yet, though Rosalie was sure it was just a matter of time. How anyone managed to spend more than five minutes in Edward's presence without losing their trespassed-upon mind was beyond her.

At home, it was a waiting game; they were prepared, and could make their next move almost as immediately as called upon to do so. A great many of Carlisle's old acquaintances had agreed to fight for their world. A few new acquaintances were undergoing Jasper-style training. The werewolves were itching for a fight – _adolescents_ and _idiots_ – but necessary accomplices.

And still they sat, unmoving except for the slow hiss of air, a result of habitual breathing. Occasionally, Rosalie's eyes shifted from the cracks along the wall to the cottage-cheese ceiling, or maybe to the dresser or the window sill.

They were never going to make a decision. Rosalie and Esme might as well have been on a plane to the states days ago, for all the time they'd wasted here sitting and waiting for an answer that wasn't going to come.

And if it did come, it wasn't going to be the answer they wanted. Rosalie didn't have to be Alice to know that.

It was six-thirty in the evening. The curtains of the hotel room were closed to avoid any unnecessary vampire-shining, but Rosalie could still see easily enough. The light wasn't fading yet, they were so far north. It reminded her of Alaska, and the quiet life they'd lived there.

What she wouldn't give for her little cabin in the woods right now, Emmett by her side.

Esme's phone buzzed on the dresser, and she picked it up in one smooth movement. Rosalie tilted her head to listen to the conversation.

"The council would like to see you now."

OOOOO

Rosalie had dressed to impress, with a blue blouse and smooth black trousers, neatly pressed with the iron in the hotel cupboard. Esme wore a simple black dress and no jewelry, her hair tied back from her face. The most important thing right now was that they appeared trustworthy and truthful – and serious.

There were more wizards in the room today – six of them – all dressed in the same ill-fitting robes, all varying degrees of ugliness. The warty man they had seen the first day sat at the end of the row; he clearly wasn't he leader of the group. Six assistants sat on a dais in front of the wizards, each scribbling furious; what they were scribbling, Rosalie wasn't quite sure. No one had said anything yet.

"Greetings," The man in the middle began, with a distinctly feminine sounding voice. Rosalie peered at him – her? – it was hard to distinguish.

"Hello," Esme spoke, her voice calm and betraying none of her frustration or fear.

"We have come to our decision." Rosalie braced herself. Despite all of the _knowing_ that they were going to say "no," some small part of her had still been hoping that they would defy the odds.

"We will assist you in this fight. However, our first duty is to our own people; if the number of casualties at home becomes overwhelming, we will have more important matters on our minds."

"Of course," Esme said, and Rosalie could just imagine her smiling, though she remained gazing straight ahead.

"We can offer you little intelligence of our own right now – however, we are certain of the potency of veritaserum against the human mind, as well as a few other tactics that may work on your own kind."

"Thank you," Esme nodded. "Your help will be indispensible."

"We realize this, and so we feel it is our duty to ally ourselves with you."

Rosalie suppressed a growl. Wizards – how _arrogant_.

"I must return to my husband," Esme said, "but we are receiving new information every hour – and we will keep close contact with you."

The speaker nodded, "We have chosen our own emissary – Miss Georgia Whittlebottom – to accompany you and your companion back to the United States. She will serve as an ambassador and middle-woman, shall we say, between our two parties."

"Wonderful." Esme nodded, and turned to leave.

Rosalie followed, her mind spinning. Werewolves, she understood. She didn't like them, but she understood why they needed them.

Sure, they got what they wanted. Really, she was glad about that. Who wouldn't be? But _really? _A witch infiltrating their ranks? It rankled her. She wanted to hit something. They would need to hunt before they left.

**I'd love a review (or two). **

**In other news, I've finally finished editing and combing through and throwing rotten food at the final chapters of this story. Expect updates to come sooner, as I want to have most of this out of the way when I really get into the thick of National Novel Writing Month.**


	18. Spies

**Author's Note: I told you I was going to update faster! Teehee…**

"_Big Brother is watching you."_

_George Orwell_

Chapter Fourteen

Spies

Edward spoke slowly to "Hannah" behind the desk. "No, a _small_ car."

"But sir…" She leaned forward, letting a few strands of blonde hair fall over her face and offering him a peek into her blouse. Edward remained nonplussed. Demetri took a peek, but wasn't impressed.

"I placed my order yesterday, and I was assured the best service available." He turned on the dazzle. "Are you telling me my car is unavailable?"

"Umm…" She began to search for excuses and polite words, but wasn't coming up with any. "Uh…"

Demetri leaned across the desk and bared his pearly white shark-sharp teeth. "Could we speak with your manager?"

The teeth did the trick. Hannah scuttled away, beginning to sweat in her too-crispy starched uniform.

Edward turned to Demetri, who was congratulating himself. "I have this covered."

"Obviously," Demetri snarled, "you don't."

Edward wasn't scared of the man, but he chose to tread carefully. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Away from here," he grunted, and began tapping his foot impatiently, a sign for the manager to hurry up.

"We need a car."

"No." Demetri gave him a look – one that spoke of miles of open ground, of feet flying and wind whistling in your ears.

Edward echoed his "No." This was not the time nor place to be found out.

He tried to tune out Demetri's impatient thoughts and focus on the present. Rent the car, get to the hotel, begin the search.

Involuntarily, Edward began tapping his foot as well.

OOOOO

Two vampires stole along the darkened road away from the hotel. They remained silent and kept as much distance between them as possible. Just because they had a common mission did not mean they were going to get along with each other.

Demetri was the most talented tracker under Volturi employ in its long history. It would be ridiculously easy, he claimed, to find Caius – a man he knew so well - in this city. And, if they were lucky, they wouldn't even have to get within smelling distance for Edward to hear his thoughts.

They were searching for anything – anyone – that lead to the resistance headquarters. The smell of vampires so permeated the air – so mingled with the smell of blood and humans and car oil and fast food joints that even Demetri was becoming frazzled. The smell of vampires was everywhere – it would be picking a needle out of a haystack. Too many for an effective filtering process. They might have to scour the whole city.

They met their first vampire on a few blocks from the hotel. It was young – only a few months old – so they disguised their smell by taking a seat at a restaurant open late. The young man, with red hair and jaunty movements, as if he was nervous, was thinking about a stern looking man who had dismembered another vampire in front of the group. This young man was a deserter of the army trying to return and get back in their good graces. He was looking for the man who taught him how to fight, trying to remember a street address. The details were hazy in his young and blood-obsessed memory, but a mental picture of the street was enough.

He wasn't worth much, but they were sure to find more from his stern superior.

OOOOO

Demetri sneered as he copied the email address from the printout onto a spare piece of paper in the near-empty apartment. He didn't understand technology these days. He remembered when the pencil was the big innovation of the times! Now mail was sent electronically – something he didn't understand. He'd left that up to the VolTechies (as they were fondly called).

He did know that electronic communication could be easily tracked. As a tracker, he was pleased with this thought; he was doing his job. All he had to do was return this information to Jasper the Master-Hacker (did every coven have kitschy names for their nerds?), and they were set. He would return to Edward, who would pass the information on.

It hadn't taken them as long as they thought to find Caius – just a few hours, and some well-placed questions. For all anyone knew, with an army so large, Edward and Demetri were just like the rest of them.

It turned out that if a vampire had bothered to stick around Sydney, they were a part of the resistance, and they were all sticking close to headquarters, awaiting further orders. _The bosses_ (multiple! Vampire democracy now?) were keeping them on a tight leash – they'd lost enough troops as it was.

Six degrees of separation, he'd heard it called. He and Edward had located the mind they were looking for in exactly six moves.

Caius, the Judas of the Volturi. He wouldn't leave Italy without the promise of a much better position; he was guaranteed to be at the resistance headquarters, in Australia.

Edward had returned to get the rental car, and had taken up position outside the meeting place he'd seen in the betrayer's mind. Demetri had come here – to the residence of another vampire, a place Caius had frequented – looking for _something_. Jackpot.

He looked at the clock next to the computer. He had a couple of hours until their arranged rendezvous.

Plenty of time for a snack.

OOOOO

_The best part about being dead, _Edward thought, _is no jetlag. _So even though it was, according to the digital clock on the rental car, seven twenty-four in the evening, Edward was wide awake and hiding behind the tinted windows of the blue BMW, listening in on a particularly useful meeting across the street. He'd been in Australia for two and a half days now, the past twenty-four of them in Sydney, and by all rights should be slumped over in his hotel room right now, dreaming away his subconscious. Instead, he was happily blazing away on his mission – all day and all night, if he had to.

"What do you mean, 'Out of control?'" A gravelly voice raged. Edward had identified him as 'Philip.' "Are you blaming me?"

"I'm not blaming anyone!" Another voice yelled, his tone implying otherwise. "I'm just saying that _you_ were in charge of the military maneuvers, and now our army is spread out halfway between Siberia and Bolivia!"

Caius addressed the yeller. "Luke, we will fall apart if we being placing the blame now. What matters is that all of our heads will all be burning to irreconcilable pieces if we don't get this fixed."

"And how do you propose to 'fix' this, Mr. Volturi man?" Philip whirled on him. "Aren't you one of the men we were trying to get rid of in the first place?"

Caius tried to remain calm, but his thoughts worried about the possibilities of the group ganging up against him while he was so defenseless. "I'm as much for establishing a new order as the rest of you. I saw the flaws in our old system."

"And yet you did nothing about them," Darren growled. He was the youngest, and his voice the smoothest.

"I was one of three. The limit to my influence was a peaceful shift in power from the inside." Yup, definitely ganging up on him. "What you have accomplished is far more effective."

The last of the five, Matthew, interrupted Philip before he could get his next argument out. "It still doesn't fix the problem. We have thousands of vampires and no way to get them all in one place."

"We could leave them as it is," Luke suggested. "Imagine – a new vampire order ruling the earth."

"I believe," Caius was noticeably anxious now, "that's what you were trying to get rid of in the first place."

"Well," Darren whirled on Matthew, "it would be nice if this _contact _of yours would give us some help . How are we to know that all our work won't go unnoticed, that he will just take all the credit?"

Edward's ears perked up. _Contact_. It seemed that there was someone else centrally involved – maybe even controlling this group.

"We five are too visible and powerful a presence to easily be ignored," Caius intoned, hoping the "we_"_ would remind the others of the unity of the group.

"How many are still loyal to our cause?" Matthew turned to Philip.

"I'd say five hundred."

Matthew snorted. "With five hundred, it would take months to round up all of the deserters. Our army would be destroyed before it could be of any service."

"Then we would start anew," Darren suggested.

"No more newborns," Philip growled. "I argued against it last time – you can't blame me. You saw how it turned out."

"There aren't enough of us to subdue them…"

"Well, we've got to do _something_!"

And on the argument went.

Daylight was just beginning to dim outside, but the vampires had been holed up in that dusty warehouse since before dawn. Apparently, since they couldn't leave, they were making the most of the time they had. They discussed everything from the weather (and their influence over it) to how the various world leaders had dealt with the threat to their respective nations. Edward had already found out the estimate of the numbers the group were leading (more than a thousand), and the damage it had caused (irreparable). He paid particular attention to Caius' distinctive mind – _he'd survived after all, the traitor_ – and assumed that the rest of the group were also similarly experienced undead. Not one mind held the parched ravings of a newborn.

Edward was taking notes on a handheld computer, ready to send his transcripts back to the US as soon as the meeting adjourned. He worried about his family's reaction to this information though; would they want to "storm the castle" right away? Would they act irrationally, and just jump into the fight?

At last notice, Esme and Rosalie had arrived home – a shaking scared witch in tow – with the support of the Eastern Warlocks. Seven of Carlisle's friends had converged on the house, and the werewolves were on standby not far away (but far enough away to ignore the smell).

There was no way a group of that size could take down many thousands of rogue vampires – but if it took down the leadership (there were five in this meeting – well outnumbered), it wouldn't take long for the rest of the resistance to fall apart. They had already experienced many deserters after the attack on Volterra; Jasper and his tactical headquarters were keeping track of them as best as possible.

President Moleweller had all but given up. Edward was disgusted. Some leader of the Free World – he couldn't get his act together over some silly vampires.

Though, really, that wasn't very generous of him. Edward knew, as much as anyone, how monstrous vampires could be.

He also knew exactly how scared everyone was, hearing the thoughts they didn't voice.

It was amazing that Jasper held up so long in such an atmosphere of hopelessness.

"I will report our decision. You know his wishes." Caius spoke now. Edward leaned forward in his seat. Someone must know the identity of this strange General.

"Of course," Philip replied. "However, we do have reason to believe that we will meet resistance."

"We do?" Darren was surprised. He was younger than the others.

Caius grunted. "Carlisle Cullen would not stand for it; of course he wouldn't."

"You know him?" Philip asked.

"Yes. But he is the peaceful sort; I don't believe he'd truly cause enough of a problem to be worth our attention." Caius sounded assured, and Edward wondered that he hadn't learned his lesson the first time around with the Volturi – unless he'd been an insider from the get-go.

"Then we should not worry."

Edward heard the stirring of the vampires, cloaks pulled over faces and wooden chair legs scraped across a cement floor. He waited for the next car to pass him on the street to turn on his engine, to mask the noise some, before sliding away.

In his rearview mirror, the first of the men from the meeting emerged into the shadows beneath the warehouse. None realized they'd been eavesdropped upon.

He would have to be careful in how he related the information. Straight to Carlisle, who would mitigate a family decision. The fact was, it was obvious that, though this group was leading the rebels, and though the information he'd gleaned was useful, they were answering to someone else. Clearly, there was a singular voice responsible for this destruction, and it wasn't in that meeting. If they wanted to destroy the threat at its roots, he first had to find those roots.

It was baffling, to say the least. Usually, the Volturi had to deal with a bunch of angry young vampires who'd just found out about the Volturi and didn't like to be told what to do. It didn't take them very long to find out what the rules were, how the game was played, and who was boss.

It wasn't in vampire nature to stir things up too much. They were far too easily content – so why were these ancient and experienced men so eager for change? A battalion of deranged newborns who didn't see why they couldn't just have as much blood as they wanted? That made sense.

Edward didn't get it. One man behind the whole operation.

What could he possibly have said to get Caius to betray his brothers, to raise an army so large… to threaten their very existence?

Edward let out his breath and tapped some buttons on the tiny computer, sending his update to Carlisle.

OOOOO

Carlisle looked at the screen, glad that no one was in the room with him (thank goodness for group hunting trips!) and no one could read his mind. This information was unsettling.

_We're looking for just one guy behind it all._

_I'm gonna need some help here._

Carlisle sighed and ran his hands through his golden locks. Even if they didn't think he'd be much trouble, they'd be keeping an eye on him.

He was worried. At least Alice could get a handle on where to look – but what would she see? Were they operating on the whims and fancies of some emotionally stunted undead being? Who was Edward's "one guy."

He wanted to be able to talk to Edward, to ask him questions and bounce ideas off the boy. Edward may not have been very forthcoming with cold hard facts in his report, but he could hear the tone of thoughts, the slant to trains of thinking. Perhaps he could provide some insight into motivation, into possible next moves, into characters that would shape actions.

Carlisle pressed a button on his phone, listening for the ring.

Edward's phone was off. Demetri didn't carry a phone, and Carlisle had no idea where they were staying or how to contact them.

Worst of all, he had several vampires, werewolves, and wizards waiting just a phone call away, itching for some action – and he didn't have a plan.

**Getting reviews would be like convincing David Tennant to be The Doctor for just a little longer. Basically: Awesome.**


	19. On The Road

**Author's Note: Many thanks for the reviews, guys! I'd love to say I write just for myself, but it's still great to know someone is interested. This one's for you.**

"_All travelling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity."_

_John Rusk_

Chapter Fifteen

On the Road

_Somewhere in Wyoming, USA._

"This is just stupid," Tabitha groaned, looking out the windows of the car. "Why do we have to drive?"

"The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves." Marissa said. She had long chocolate-brown hair and green eyes. Tabitha was jealous of her, not just because she was gorgeous, but because she'd been entrusted to lead this little mission. She even got to drive the car.

Tabitha took a perverse pleasure in the fact that she might have freckles and be short, but at least she _knew_ how to drive a car.

There were no vampires along this stretch of highway. How could there be? There were no towns nearby, no fresh blood for them to suck.

But Marissa was in charge, and she insisted on driving into the middle of nowhere, so Tabitha refused to say anything. Let those goons realize their mistake, putting the pretty girl in charge. It wouldn't be long before they admitted defeat now.

She looked down at the map in her lap. It was enchanted – as many of the Council's maps were – and it moved with the landscape, revealing in red any offending undead they might encounter.

"Anything?" Marissa asked.

"Nothing." Tabitha wanted to rest her head against the seat and sleep, but she stared out the window instead. Somewhere out there, there were vampires for the catching.

Five minutes rolled by. Cows grazed. Trees whizzed past. Tabitha felt her eyes closing. What she would do to turn on the radio right now, to sing along to pop songs and keep herself awake.

Sadly, staying awake wasn't worth it if it would distract bad-driver Marissa to their deaths.

"Anything?"

Tabitha was tempted to not even look at the map this time. Had there been anything for the past five hours? No. The last vampires they'd found were already smoking remains. The fighting amongst the vampires had gotten worse. It was unlikely they were going to find anything else alive – well, not dead anyway - along this stretch of boring road.

She looked at the map anyway.

Finally!

"There's a right turn up ahead, into a cluster of trees." She instructed. "Wands at the ready."

OOOOO

_An Airplane. Not really anywhere._

It's generally considered pretty stupid to plan to take over the most powerful vampire rulers in many millennia, and assume that your computer will not get hacked. Jasper grimaced as he waited for the airplane to land. It was this ridiculous "it couldn't happen to me" attitude. It was almost viral, the way it went around. I can smoke a cigarette or two and not get lung cancer. I can take this drug at a party and not get addicted. I can have all the sex I want and not die of AIDS. I can go speeding around in my car and not kill anyone (this, however, did not apply to vampires with super fast reflexes).

Once Demetri had found an email address for this lurking unknown leader, it didn't take much for Jasper to track down email history, phone records, address – anything he wanted. Vampires – at least, the non-nomadic ones – are exceptionally technology savvy. What else do they do with their time?

This small house, in a quiet residential neighborhood, belonged to a human named Donna Striper. She had recently stopped showing up to her job at a bank, she owned a little red Toyota, and she had asthma. Demetri assumed she had been killed in the rogue rampage, but with all the vampire smells overwhelming the air, he couldn't get a handle on exactly who – and if this vampire was dangerous, he wasn't going to just stick around on his own to find out.

OOOOO

Bella was scared. Bella wasn't much used to being scared, being a vampire and all, and living a relatively simple life with her husband. But her husband was on a different continent, prancing around like James Bond, and who knew what he would get up to? Edward could be so smart and thought things through so well (a little too well, sometimes… most of the time… ALL the time). But that temper of his made him so rash. Who knew what he would do if suddenly faced with a situation.

Bella didn't take the time to consider what type of situation Edward might be faced with. Discovery, death, being hit on by pretty girls. It was all the same; dangerous. Plus, how could she know he would remember to hunt? He wasn't so careful anymore, not the way he used to be, back when they were dating and she was human and he didn't want her to become dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch.

Or James' snack… Bella rolled her head around on the seat back, trying to clear her mind. These thoughts were no good. She turned to the left and saw Carlisle giving her a little smile from across the aisle – part encouraging, part relieved. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she'd been sitting to still. Drat.

She turned to the tiny woman next to her. "Alice, is he - ?"

"He's fine, Bella." It wasn't like Alice to be so curt. And Bella knew it wasn't fair to ask so much of her – the future was so crowded with so many vampires, so many possibilities, almost all of them leading to ultimate doom and none of them particularly consoling. Poor Alice had to watch them all unfold before her, and here Bella was begging her for news of her normally-sensible husband.

Sensible. Normally. She was just going to have to hang on to that for a while.

OOOOO

A "DING!" echoed throughout the cabin, and Esme jumped. The seatbelt sign was on. Carlisle's hand slipped into hers, and she tried to relax. Carlisle was right; they didn't have much option right now. They made their decision. They got onto the airplane. They would be landing in Australia in half an hour and then it was fire and brimstone and…

A light squeeze from Carlisle. That wasn't a relaxing train of thought. Right.

Esme thought of her daughters; two sitting across the aisle and on pretending to sleep in the seat in front of her. Rosalie's hair cascaded between the seats and fell within Esme's reach. She reached out to touch it, loosely braiding the soft blonde strands, keeping her hands busy. She thought of beautiful Rosalie – gorgeous angry Rosalie who had died for her beauty and lived solely for it now. Rosalie wasn't worried. She had Emmett next to her, his strong shoulder to rest upon. They were ready for this.

Esme thought of Bella. Nervous Bella, who'd been in a funk since Edward left and was simultaneously eager to get back to him… and worried she might never see him again. Bella, who'd chosen death for the boy she loved. Bella, who looked at the contents of the magazine in front of her with the same interest a vulture gives a lettuce leaf. Bella's mind was a thousand miles away – no wonder Edward could never find it.

Esme looked over at Alice. Alice sat in Jasper's arms, watching her family around her in the cabin. Esme knew she was seeing futures, and seeing things she didn't like. Jasper was calming her – was calming everybody – had been calming everyone in the plane since the moment the vampires took their seats. Poor Alice; so vibrant, yet she'd seen such atrocious things, her whole life.

Carlisle shifted in his seat, and Esme took that as her cue to rest her head upon his shoulder. Keep fidgeting, like a human would. They were almost there.

OOOOO

"I… hate – no loathe, detest, abhor! – vampires." Devon spat out the last word as if it were lemon juice to him. "I don't see why we should help them."

"Why?" Frank, taller than the others, loomed over them as he crossed his arms. "Why should we help them? I'll tell you why – "

"Really?" Jonah butted in from his position on a rock, where he poured water down his throat as if it were going out of fashion. "This better be good."

"We can't trust them." Devon said.

"No way," Jonah shook his head, black hair flopping into his eyes.

"The way I see it," Frank said, "we're helping ourselves too. We're helping leeches kill other leeches."

Devon shrugged. Not good enough.

Frank continued. "It doesn't matter if they're honest with us. What's in for them us killing these things that are tearing apart families and ruining lives?"

Jonah caught his drift. "So, best you figure, we gotta do what we gotta do?"

Frank nodded. "Exactly. We protect our people, and that means killing these bloodsuckers."

Devon punched at the air. "I don't even care about stupid blood-feasting monsters any more. I wanna go home."

Frank looked at him, his glower telling Devon everything. He was sixteen, for crying out loud, and he was going to buck up and do his job and obey his alpha.

Devon shook his head once more and shifted into his furry skin. _Fine, let's get this over with._

OOOOO

Aro watched the credits rolling at the end of the movie. He couldn't remember the last time he'd flown commercially! What a way to remain inconspicuous – to be lost in the crowd. And these movie screens on the seat backs – so many choices! He wasn't much of a film buff, so there was so much pop culture to catch up on… oh where to start!

It would be nicer if that silly little witch girl wasn't sitting next to him. To the bloody connoisseur, magic people smelled all wrong. So _off _– like stale bread. Didn't mean that a crazy newborn wouldn't eat anything put in front of them… but Aro liked to think he had better taste than that.

Now that the movie was over… his mind was drifting, in and out of uncomfortable territory. That Robert Pattinson – classic actor – playing the grandfather had reminded him a little bit of that charming irrational Edward. Edward, who had summoned them all to Australia and to doom. No. He was an old man, who'd lived his years, and if they were to be done now, so be it. He didn't want to be around to see what was coming next.

What was that story Carlisle had given back at O'Hare? Family reunion. Gramps coming along too. Sightseeing and beaches and all that.

Aro had never worn swimwear. He doubted it would be flattering.

**Reviews are like getting a glimpse of Aro in swimwear: Priceless.**


	20. On The Other Side Of The World

"_The sea rises, the light falls, lovers cling to each other and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out."_

_James Baldwin_

Chapter Sixteen

On the Other Side of the World

Edward shuffled his feet. Usually, when waiting, he could stay remarkably still for incredible periods of time.

If he did that here, he would almost immediately be identified for what he was. Maybe this constant movement was overdoing it.

Not like he didn't have an excuse…

It had been four days, twelve hours, and sixteen minutes since he'd last seen the woman he couldn't stand to be apart from. Yes, she'd put up a fight about his departure for the southern hemisphere, but it wasn't like he wanted to leave.

And when she wouldn't come to the airport to tell him goodbye… he knew it wasn't so much cold as constantly telling herself that there was no need, because he was coming back to her.

For the last four days, twelve hours and sixteen minutes, Edward had been telling himself the same thing.

They were just around the corner now, coming from the direction of baggage claim. Edward could smell them… Carlisle, a somehow comforting smell that reminded him of a leather bound book or an old desk. As much a father as any.

Esme, who oddly had always given off scent a little bit like chocolate chip cookies and milk and hugs. Not exactly those things, of course – but what those things meant.

Trust him to get all sentimental now.

There was Aro the Annoying and some female he didn't recognize, though the smell screamed _witch._ Alice and Jasper coming around the corner with clasped hands. Rosalie and Emmett, dragging behind them the two suitcases that did not, in fact, carry clothes.

And the best for last. Freesia and love.

Bella.

He probably moved too fast, pulling her to his chest. He wanted to kiss her and tell her, "Look! I'm here, alive!" but that wouldn't be the least suspicious thing to declare in an airport where they were trying to remain inconspicuous.

He didn't even mind when her little fist connected with his chest as he buried his face in her perfect hair.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." She whispered into his collar. "You are _never _ doing this to me again."

He chuckled.

"I'm fine with that."

OOOOO

Jasper and Demetri had been sitting in a parked car across the road for hours. Jasper didn't want to be left out of the fight, but Demetri was the consummate of luddite. When – if – Donna Striper ever left her house, chanceds were he would have to break into her computer's files. No matter how bad he wanted a fight, they needed the information too desperately.

The house was small, and not very well kept. Jasper's searching provided that the woman who owned the house had not been married. Without a man to keep up with the repairs, no wonder the place was a shambles. The gutters were clogged, the lawn was an odd yellow color, the planters held nothing more than twigs and dirt. The front step hadn't been washed in years, and Jasper was fairly certain that, were they to ring the doorbell, it wouldn't work either.

In the time they had been sitting here, no one had entered the house, and no one had left. While the rest of the neighborhood was ripe with morning activity – breakfast and showers and shoving the dog out the back door – it could easily be assumed that no one lived in the little ramshackle house sandwiched between a prissy pink building and the home of a passionate gardener.

There was someone in that house, however. Someone was moving around; turning on taps, flicking through the television channels, swishing with a toothbrush. For all of its disrepair, this house was definitely occupied.

Even stranger still, the house was definitely occupied by a human. One that talked to herself, had chastised herself, "What's gotten into you Donna? Forgetting to put the milk back in the fridge."

But they'd assumed that Donna Striper was one of the dead.

Maybe she was not dead; maybe she was just crazy.

It was nine o'clock in the morning, and none of this made very much sense.

OOOOO

Edward lead his family back to the empty warehouse, where the rebel vampire leaders were meeting once more. The arrival of the Cullens in Australia had coincided perfectly with another strategy meeting – and a perfect opportunity to take them out. All of the old men were present – Caius, Philip, Darren, Matthew, and Luke - already bickering and tossing backhanded insults at each other. It amazed Edward that after hundreds years, these men had not yet matured enough to have peaceful negotiations. It didn't say much for the adaptability of the vampire race.

The warehouse was fortunately detached; no buildings directly adjacent to it meant no way for these men to slip through their fingers and escape. From the moment of their arrival, the Cullens had taken spots at the main doors and alleyways surrounding the place. Carlisle and Emmett stood at the main door, while Bella, Esme, Alice and Edward each took strategic corners of the building – watching the alleyways surrounding the warehouse for any Houdinis. With Bella among the group, they couldn't be detected, and with Alice watching for any sudden decisions, smart moves could be made in milliseconds. Sign language was used for signals – and with Alice and Edward on opposite sides of the building, nothing would get past them.

And so they waited for the meeting to adjourn, an ambush ready to destroy.


	21. Justice

**Author's Note: I'll admit, for a while I was kinda giving up on this story. No worries, I finish a project once I start it, and I'm always greatful for the practice… but if anyone was reading, they weren't even telling me! And as I've said before, I don't write for reviews… but I do like to hear from you. Anything, good or bad. I got a great review recently, for "Guard Your Heart" that I certainly took to heart, and it just made my day.**

**In other news, I'm majorly jealous of my sister. I'm listening to Thrice's "Red Sky" – a great song, by the way, and the tone is very appropriate to this story… Anyway, on Friday she met Thrice in Denny's! Like, an hour before she went to go see them in concert.**

**This may be the longest author's note I've posted in months.**

"_Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee_

_Agreed to have a battle;_

_For Tweedle Dum said Tweedle Dee_

_Had spoiled his nice new rattle."_

_Lewis Carroll_

Chapter Seventeen

Justice

Tabitha strolled out of the woods and back to the muggle car, a smug smile on her face. Marissa, filled with the joy of a job well done, had given her the car keys.

Two birds with one stone – or whatever they said.

"I didn't know the killing curse worked on vampires."

Marissa shrugged as she slid into the passenger seat. "Me neither. Just what Old Hannah told me to do."

Old Hannah was the council's expert on the world's most dangerous vampires. If she said it was okay to use the killing curse – if it was the best way to get rid of these foul things – then Tabitha wasn't arguing. It was said that fifty years ago, Old Hannah had even invited a whole coven of them as the keynote address to a conference. Hannah was eccentric, but she knew her vampires. She'd given Tabitha the map, too, and a charm to hide their smell, emphasizing the element of surprise as the key to their success.

"Strange – I thought vampires were sort-of already dead."

"Well, magic doesn't exist either," Marissa snarked, "so I don't think it really matters."

A handheld computer-phone-thingy (another one of those muggle contraptions) rang from its spot on the dashboard. And rang. And rang.

Marissa was just staring at it.

"Are you going to get that?"

"What?"

"Answer it!"

"Why don't you?"

"I'm driving."

Marissa picked it up and pressed a series of buttons until she got the right one. Tabitha rolled her shoulders and stifled a sigh. At least she hadn't pressed the "End call" button.

"Hello?" Marissa yelled at the device.

"Mari? It's Donny, darling." Of course, the reigning man-whore in wizards robes. He was somewhere on the other side of this continent, fighting evil and all that.

"Oh, it's you!" Marissa giggled. "I'm so glad you called. We've been _so_ bored. It's dull as dingbat dung around here."

Tabitha noted that Marissa was referring to her, and not to recent non-boring battles with vampires in the middle of the woods.

"Actually, I called to-"

"Talk to me! Oh, you shouldn't have."

"-warn you – "

"Really, Donny, this isn't appropriate while we're on the job."

"- coming in your direction – "

"To see us? Now really, Don."

"- following as best we could –"

"You stalk –"

Tabitha didn't see it before it hit them – the wall of concrete and the roar of the undead and the angry. She clutched the steering wheel but the car lost control anyway. Marissa screamed as a pale hand shattered the windshield and reached between them.

In the ruckus, Tabitha couldn't see anything. The outside world flashed by at a dizzying pace as vampire limbs broke through the roof and her passenger's screams paralyzed her.

_Where was her wand?_

Snarling, and teeth near her ear. Her hand groped blindly along the floor, the other in her pockets…

The familiar oak seemed to find her itself. She didn't know what direction the vampire was coming from anymore. She point upwards and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Avada Kedavra!"

OOOOO

Bella wasn't prepared for how quickly it happened. She wasn't a fighter – hadn't been – since she'd become a vampire. The last big fight the Cullen family had engaged in was a verbal one; lots of harsh words and accusations and the eventual split of the group, but nothing physical.

The last big physical fight the Cullen family had taken part in, Bella had been safely ensconced in a tent a few miles away, far too human to do anything worthwhile.

She'd seen vampires fight before; match after match of Emmett versus whoever-he-decided-to-pick-on-this-time. But those were fun fights – wrestling and joking that only ended when the sun came up and the work day began.

And, of course, Bella knew the basics of how to kill a vampire. Tear them into little pieces and then burn 'em up. Relatively simple and very effective.

There was just the issue of how to actually do it.

Edward had been very insistent that Bella be out of harm's way. She stood on the corner, between the main exit and the other possible escape route on this side of the building. She could see Alice at the next corner – quick and future-seeing little Alice. Carlisle and Emmett were waiting to take them down at the main exit.

Hopefully, Bella wouldn't have too much work to do.

She heard the door creak open, the conversation between the men of the rebel group now stinted, awkward after their arguments. She heard a quick gasp of surprise at the ambush before watching Emmett conk someone on the head, with a twist and an audible snap.

Right, simple enough.

Except now that Carlisle and Emmett had taken down two of the group members, the remaining three were running for another way out of the building. If they were smart, they'd run in the direction away from Carlisle and Emmett…

And find themselves cornered at the back of the building, nowhere to go except run into a still-functioning warehouse (Edward had mentioned it made pencil erasers), and giving away their identities.

Alice was moving now, and Bella tried to keep her eyes in both directions. She witnessed the simultaneous crash out of the building and Alice's almost immediate attack. She heard similar noise from the other side, and Esme's distinctive mother-bear growl.

One left then. Alice disappeared around the back of the building, where Edward must be killing off the last of the men. Bella moved towards the still-flopping body of a mid-thirties looking vampire in jeans and a plaid button-down shirt.

What type of revolution was this?

She continued Alice's earlier work, dismantling the remains limb by limb, and tossing them to the center of the building. Carlisle was calling for them to work quickly. Surely someone from the district had heard the noise. It didn't give them much time.

Five minutes and the warehouse was burning wildly, not a Cullen in sight.

OOOOO

Roaring, snarling, grunting, barking… howling. Frank could compare nothing to the thrill of ripping a vampire to pieces.

They had a pile growing – three down already. The leech doctor had said they didn't normal travel in groups so large. Frank assumed that these were unusual circumstances.

One behind Devon. _Move it, man!_ Frank hoped he was paying attention. Being able to hear each other was fine and all, but it only worked if he wasn't being ignored.

Devon moved, whirling on the tall white blur behind him. Pouncing and slashing and venom-dripping teeth flashing.

Jonah tossed vampire bits on the growing pile. Frank wasn't sure if Devon could manage this one on his own.

The swipe of claws at a shoulder – and an arm flailing around on the ground, dismembered from its body. Frank decided that this could be over quicker if he stepped in. The vampire was occupied with the angry teenage wolf in front of him.

He never saw the furry beast behind him that tore of his head.

When they were done, Frank surveyed the purple smoke, the giddy smiles of his pack brothers.

"Get some clothes on," he told them. "And get in the car."

Another job well done.

OOOOO

Donna Strider knew what was in that car that had been parked outside the Marlowe's for the past three hours. She'd seen them before – not these ones specifically – but plenty of their kind. Tinted windows, quick movements.

Vampires.

Were the bosses watching her? Had they become suspicious, begun to doubt her motives? Were they even following her orders? They had – for a while. And then this mess; so many vampires running loose all over the world. She'd ordered them to fix it.

Apparently, it was taking a while.

And now, perhaps they knew. Knew she wasn't one of them, knew that she didn't ever want to be one of them.

Her mother – sweet Mama! – had always said Donna had an overdeveloped sense of justice. But her mother was gone – and how could she trust anymore that it really was a heart attack that took her breath away? Exactly how far did the damage these vampires inflicted extend?

All those murderers that would never be locked behind bars. All those children with parents, workers with friends and lovers and families. All for the sake of _eating_.

It just wasn't right.

What happened was this.

Donna Striper worked at a bank. She sat at a desk helping create new accounts in a cubicle across from a blonde woman named Sarah Sandy. Sarah Sandy liked ghost stories and good beer.

One night, the women went out to drinks a few blocks away from the bank where they both worked. Stumbling out of the bar together, they missed the direction of their parked cars and wandered into a darkened alleyway. Sarah was eaten by a vampire, Donna managed to run away in time.

Donna Striper had an unusually high tolerance for alcohol and woke the next morning with only a little bit of a hangover. She remembered quite clearly what she'd seen only yards away from the Dirty Diamonds Bar.

She wasn't stupid. She didn't tell anyone she saw. When interrogated over the disappearance of her coworker, she said simply that after they had left the bar, she got into her car and went home. As far as the police were concerned, her story checked out.

Donna wasn't much for conspiracy theories, but she couldn't forget what she saw, and she couldn't forget her late friend's penchant for the scary. It didn't take too much scrounging around on the internet to find out about vampires. It didn't take much more to find an anti-vampire support group, which turned out just to be a bunch of paranoid middle-aged men planning to build a vampire-safe underground bunker.

This didn't settle well with Donna. She didn't like the idea of superhuman beings that could eat people and leave them so completely defenseless.

So instead of running away from the scary vampires like a good girl, she sought one out. It took a few months, but that was how she found Matthew.

She followed him one night, after he had satiated himself and was unlikely to whirl on her. She found the cardboard box where he lived.

And while he was out at night, hunting, she started leaving him messages.

This was the plan:

Build an army.

Get rid of the Volturi.

Kill all the vampires not loyal to the cause.

Assemble the army in the desert.

Prepare them for extinction.

Effective elimination of this stupid vampire disease.

Donna didn't plan to walk out on her job, didn't plan to fall into paranoia, didn't plan for an army filled with newborns to have their own ideas.

She didn't know it, but nothing had gone according to plan at all.

**Reviews are nice, like finding a twenty in your jeans pocket that you didn't know you had.**


	22. Humans Vs Vampires

**Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews! Y'all rock. This chapter is dedicated to Blah, who is probably the first one of my friends to actually read my writing.**

"_One of the laws of paleontology is that an animal which must protect itself with thick armor is degenerate. It is usually a sign that the species is on the road to extinction." _

_John Steinbeck_

Chapter Eighteen

Humans Vs. Vampires

Something was happening inside Donna Striper's house. Jasper could hear the subtle whirr and click of a computer turning on, could see the blinds being shut. This woman was about to do something covert – something she didn't want her neighbors to accidentally stumble upon.

The tap of keys – the slide of a stylus across a touch-screen – and some mumbling about "too many" and "containment." For all Jasper knew, she could be talking about a roach infestation (though it didn't smell like it). He considered using some emotional manipulation to get at least something from the woman – but to what end? What good would it do him? Donna Striper was frustrated about something, but pretty calm. Jasper was inclined to think that somewhere along the line, Demetri had gotten it wrong. This woman couldn't be behind this mess.

Plus, humans didn't know about vampires. And it would be to no humans benefit to overthrow the Volturi, to let loose a rampaging army of bloodthirsty undead with no more rules to obey.

Though humans had a tendency to do things that weren't very sensible.

Jasper contemplated voicing his concerns to Demetri. The guy was volatile – not someone he wanted to offend.

But if they were waiting in a car for the wrong person, well, that would suck.

Jasper groaned inwardly. Bad vampire joke.

"Hey, do you think we've got the right person?"

"Of course we do," only a little bit of offense in his tone. How to approach this lightly?

"She doesn't fit my expectations for a mass murderer. I'm just wondering what convinced you?"

Demetri looked irritated, like Jasper was a mosquito instead of a co-conspirator. "I did some surveillance. The group Edward was listening in on – I found where they were staying, gave you useful information. You figured out the rest. The stuff from this Donna Striper – it sounds like what we were looking for."

"It just doesn't seem…"

"She doesn't leave the house." Demetri continued. "She's definitely in contact with one of those vampires. I highly doubt there's some illicit affair going on. What other reason has she got?"

Jasper thought the joke was pretty tasteless – keeping his younger sister in mind – but allowed Demetri to continue.

"I don't know what she thinks she's playing at. I mean, what is she? A puny human woman, that's what."

Jasper thought about it. "You can't deny that humans are capable of a lot. Mass genocide. Creating the atomic bomb. Trekking into space."

"We're stronger and smarter and faster and better. There's just less of us."

Jasper shrugged. That much was true.

"I mean, what are they? Blood and bones. I ask you, what is that worth? Blood and bones."

Jasper turned to his passenger. "That's worth quite a lot, thank you very much."

"Is it now?"

"_Life_ is _sacred_."

Demetri smirked. "As far as I know, you used to be one of us."

"I've changed."

Demetri grumbled, something to the tone of, "that's obvious."

They sat in tense silence for another hour. It was brighter outside. Thank goodness it was winter in this hemisphere, thought Jasper, or this would be a nightmare.

"Get her to run out of the house."

"What?"

"Do something to her. Make her run out of the house. I want to see her face." Demetri indicated the camera on Jasper's phone. "You know how to use that, right?"

"Duh…" How technologically challenged was this vampire? Jasper turned all of his efforts toward the Striper house and spooked the woman – she'd want to get as far away from dark corners as possible.

True enough, Donna Striper came dashing out of the house, her face pure terror. Absolute fear; it wasn't a pleasant emotion to emanate. It stirred things in Jasper he'd rather push away – desires he'd sworn to abstain from.

Jasper moved to take a quick photo of the woman, her face scrunched as if her eyes would pop out if she didn't keep them in, as if she could only make herself small enough not to be seen.

"Thanks man," Demetri patted him on the shoulder. Jasper was saving the picture when he heard the click of the door opening.

By the time he'd turned around to look at the house, Donna Striper was nothing more than a broken neck on the lawn.

OOOOO

"What did you do that for?" Jasper fumbled with the lock. It had taken too long to find a good spot for hiding Donna's body. He didn't have time to pick locks, but right now they couldn't afford to break down the door and make enough noise to alert the neighbors.

"She needed to be out of the picture," Demetri shrugged.

"We wasn't even sure she was the right one!"

Demetri gave him a look that said, "So?"

Right. Just because he was Volturi didn't mean he was the most moral of vampires.

The lock gave and Jasper put aside his reservations for a moment. At least the sun wasn't shining onto the porch – yet. They stole inside the house and closed the door behind them.

If the little house looked unkempt from the outside, it was a downright mess on the inside. To their right, food sat all over the kitchen table and dishes were stacked up in the sink. The dishwasher sat in pieces, as if someone had begun to fix it until they realized they were in over their heads. It appeared that Donna hadn't taken the time to call in professional help.

To their left was the living room – a wall unit and a couch, a dying plant, and a touch-notepad and stylus sitting on the coffee table (surrounded by empty coffee mugs and a dying plant), evidence of Donna's hurried retreat from the house.

There was an email recently sent from the unit; Jasper called it up on the touch-notepad and read a chastisement for the oversized army. Donna wanted it contained, and quickly. She wanted all non-loyal vampires to be disposed of, and the army to return to Australia. She left it up to the "committee" to set a date for the meeting, and she would give the location at a later date.

There was an old paper-and-pen notepad sitting between the cushions of the couch. Jasper picked it up and leafed through it. He no longer had doubts that this was the leader of the rebel group, and though he still smarted and Demetri's hastiness, he was glad that she was already dead – and that no blood had been spilled.

He still didn't trust himself much in that respect.

The first pages in the notebook were laden with facts; research about vampires – both myths and truths – and personal accounts. Each new discovery was punctuated by commentary; Donna noted what she found most unnerving about vampires, about where she thought the myths might come from, and if there was any way to protect herself from attack.

Further into the notebook, Donna had fallen into paranoia. She was seeing vampires around every corner. She suspected her neighbors. She had nonsensical ravings taking up paragraphs and pages at a time.

_I must get out of here. I need to stop this. It is my duty to protect them._

Who she was protecting, Jasper couldn't determine. Perhaps her family or her friends – maybe the entire human world vulnerable to the fatal bite.

Jasper came upon the most condemning of pages in the handwritten notebook. It was simple – and disturbing.

Donna Striper had a plan. She would find a vampire and try to ally with it. She would tell them her desire to overthrow the Volturi, and they would be lured in. An army created, a ruling kingdom destroyed. Then she named a location in the wilderness of Australia. She named a supplier – of explosive materials.

"What you got there?" Demetri called from the bedroom. "Anything useful?"

Jasper looked up, around the messy room. This woman – such a normal woman – what had driven her to this?

"To kill a vampire, you tear him into pieces," he said.

"Yes, I know that." Demetri came into the room and folded his arms across his chest. "Do you have anything worthwhile?"

"Then," Jasper continued, "you burn them."

Demetri looked at him strangely, putting pieces together but not seeing their relevance. "How do you think this _human_ was going to manage that?"

Jasper looked up at his companion, "With a human weapon."

OOOOO

For a long time, the relationship between humans and vampires was very simple. The vampires thirsted for human blood. The humans had no recourse but to be afraid. Vampires were a super race, with unbeatable powers.

But humans are remarkably adaptable. Regular men became vampire-fighting werewolves. Wizards defined the sciences of magic.

And many a military discovered that certain chemicals or minerals mixed with certain liquids or fires could create explosions.

Scientists captured the rules for these explosions, these massive releases of energy.

The ultimate weapon against vampires was created.

What could rip things apart limb from limb and burn them into obscurity?

A bomb.

**You know that this calls for a review. What can be improved? What had you squealing with delight? What had you cringing and ducking for cover?**


	23. Life Goes On

**Author's Note: Whoa! I reached the end without realizing it! Yes, m'dears, this is the last chapter. I hope it clears everything up for you – about the aftermath of all this nastiness. Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews – it's been a joy to read them all. Muchas Gracias to my beta, Leiahlaloa, without whom this would be several chapters shorter and boring-er.**

Chapter Nineteen

Life Goes On

Jasper tossed another handful of notes onto the pile. So much research – so careful and precise. He hated to burn it all.

Demetri was right, of course, they couldn't just leave it here. They certainly couldn't risk taking it back to the US with them.

What was the point? They knew everything they needed to know about their own kind anyway.

It would only take another few minutes. They would spread the gas, flick the lighter, and hightail it out of there. Carlisle had promised to meet them at the airport.

Jasper leafed through another handful of Donna's things.

What a waste of a life.

OOOOO

Only two hundred miles from their own home, the wolf-men burned their largest pile of dismembered leeches. So close to their people – how much danger they had been in! To think that they had doubted Carlisle's motivations, had been hesitant to put a stop to this madness.

Ninety-seven in the United States alone. Possibly more. The witches, with their magic, were much quicker at getting rid of large numbers of vampires – but they didn't move as quickly and had a harder time finding the brutes. The pack figured it was a fair trade.

What were they going to do now that they were done? Frank considered finding a girl, settling down. He hoped that Devon and Jonah went back to school. They were smart boys.

It was a shame they had to see things like this while they were still so young.

All over America, plumes of purple smoke hailed the coming of a peace the likes of which the world had never appreciated so much before.

OOOOO

Carlisle sighed over his paperwork. Doctor by day, vigilante by night. He saved lives in one profession, he destroyed them in another. It was necessary – the world was still recovering from the shock of the monsters, from the fear and the rumors – but it didn't give him much spare time to go over the beaurocratic side of medicine.

Aro had agreed to continue in the footsteps of his brothers in the newly organized vampire government – but all the power would no longer reside in one location. That had proved to be too dangerous. He had taken up residence in Paris, in an artsy apartment where he could spend his days recording all he knew about the history and patterns of the world, and all that he was learning. Carlisle's friends in Denali had reluctantly agreed to preside over the North American continent; it would put a damper on their incredibly hidden lifestyle, but the lack of appropriate government would be far more dangerous. One ruling vampire group for each of the six inhabited continents, all only a conference call away from each other, and they could avoid any more vampire armies of mass destruction in the future.

The wizards were settling back into their comfortable hiding places, thought they'd promised to keep a vampire liaison or two, as a preventive measure. There was no reason to avoid peace between the groups – particularly since Georgia Whittlebottom and Aro, formerly of the Volturi, had begun to get along particularly well after spending several hours cooped up together in an Australian hotel. She was no longer scared of him, he no longer found her scent repulsive, and mutual friends had high hopes for a spring wedding.

The werewolves had gone back home. They'd been responsible for the death of at least a hundred rogues across America, and they deserved the break. They were glad to be done with the vampires for a while. To be honest, Carlisle was glad to be done with the wolves for a while. He could still feel the burn of the doggie smell.

So, the world was being put back to rights. In a few years, most of the remaining humans would have moved on – have forgotten about the vampire menace. In a century or so, it would become a distant memory or event, like a war – something that happened, but that you weren't a part of.

A few hundred years more, and it would become the stuff of legends.

Esme was already concerned about moving again. Too much had happened here, she said, and it's too dangerous. Carlisle had been wearing blue-colored contacts to work in the past few years – an experiment – but the eyes of a vampire were not the only distinctive features. When they moved (Esme was thinking Scotland), Carlisle would have to resign from being a doctor for a few years.

Having the kids in the house the past few months had been torture. Why on earth had they missed them? Loved them, yes. But the noise and the mess and the bickering?

Even Esme wasn't so broody when they left this time. A few years alone with Esme… building a house, reading, just spending time together… He could do that. It had been a long time since they had that luxury.

Maybe he could return to Med school… now that was a thought.

OOOOO

_You are cordially invited_

_To the wedding of _

_Georgia Whittlebottom_

_And _

_Aro, formerly of the Volturi_

_At 7:00 PM_

_On March 14__th__ of next year_

_Please RSVP to: Alice Whitlock at WeddingPlanner (dot) com_

Tabitha giggled. She'd known Georgia since grade school – what a nerdy little girl! No surprise that she'd gone on to work at the council. She'd always been teacher's pet.

But maybe they'd begun to find her as annoying as Tabitha always had. After all, they'd sent her off with the vampires.

And look at how that had turned out! She hoped that Marissa had seen this and was fuming. Marissa had always wanted a Paris wedding. And to marry a vampire – she would thrive on attention like that!

Georgia Whittlebottom married.

Oh, what awful children they'd have!

OOOOO

Rosalie stood in the doorway to the living room, fuming. She was, allegedly, the most beautiful woman in the world – and yet her husband wouldn't even look up at her.

He was too involved in a stupid _game_. Now that Jasper and Alice were here, all Emmett wanted to do was spend time with them – wrestling or blowing things up via video game or racing the cars.

And for the first few days, Rosalie had put up with it. It was natural. With Emmett's playful nature, this sort of thing was to be expected. She took solace in modeling Alice's designs for her, and smearing her face with grease under the hood of the car she was restoring.

But Alice was too absorbed in her work right now to be any fun. It wasn't like Jasper was ever much fun. And what was Emmett doing? He was _ignoring her_.

She considered stripping down to her underwear and seeing if the boy so much as batted an eyelid – except she couldn't do that in front of Jasper. She thought about coercing Alice into taking Jasper away on a hunting trip – but that didn't help her _right now_.

Rosalie _harrump_hed and returned to restoring her car.

OOOOO

Bella checked the clock one more time. 7:58. Two minutes.

Everything was set – desks arranged in neat lines, nametags taped to the top. A stack of first-day-back worksheets sitting on the corner of her own impeccably organized desk. Timmy the Turtle meandering around his aquarium.

7:59. One minute.

Bella checked her handheld computer for messages. The utility bill for last month, an ad for tickets to the opera, a good-luck from Esme, a demand from Alice to send a photo of what she was wearing, a rude knock-knock joke from Emmett…

And from Edward:

_Teach, you're my fave._

Cheesy, silly, lovely vampire.

The bell rang, and twenty-five fourth graders began to pour in. Bella stood in front of her desk, smiling, trying to appear less nervous than she was.

Twenty-five new students to convince she wasn't as dangerous as their instincts told them she was. Twenty-five new students to show who's boss. Twenty-five new sets of nit-picky, worrying parents to reassure.

Three minutes later, and the desk were full. Fifty years of death and Bella was a good actress. She called roll in the most confident voice she had. She wrote her name on the board in the steadiest hand these children would ever see.

She began to relax. No one had run away screaming yet.

"So, any questions?"

One little boy – Gareth from row three – raised his hand.

"Miss Masen?"

"_Mrs. _Masen," Bella corrected.

"What did you do this summer?"

Bella caught her jaw before it dropped. Good question.

**And so it ends! How does Bella answer that question? She can't very well tell them she spent her summer trailing after an ancient and paranoid vampire, can she? Hmm…**

**I loved writing this. I've never written in third person before, and I really enjoyed finding all the new things I could do with it. This idea was quite different from the things I've pursued before as well. I feel like I've grown a good bit after this project.**

**I won't be writing much fanfiction from here on out. Maybe a few one-shots. But I did what I came here to do; I learned more about how to write. I'm working on my novel for National Novel Writing Month right now, and I have plenty more ideas for original fiction. Perhaps (a long time from now!) you'll see me on the shelves at Barnes and Noble.**

**Much love, and hugs, and thanks for hanging out with me for so long,**

**Judith (a.k.a. thesunshinekid)**

**P.S. You don't have to review if you don't want to. But, the thing is, I know you do want to.**


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